


D.I.V.O.R.C.E

by Hufflerin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dead Ginny Weasley, Divorced Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hufflerin/pseuds/Hufflerin
Summary: Draco Malfoy is in the middle of a very tense divorce when he has a chance meeting with a grieving Harry Potter. The two men try to forge a reluctant friendship in the midst of all the chaos but is there a chance of something more?





	1. D: Death and Divorce

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> (This disclaimer is borrowed from Saras_girl, who I sincerely hope will not mind.)
> 
> In many ways this fic is heavily canon compliant with some obvious diversions. For that reason, I'm not remaining compliant to Cursed Child though many aspects which become canon in CC will remain canon in this fic.

### D: Death and Divorce

#### November 5th 2007

“You haven’t signed appendix 4A….” drawled the decaying woman behind the counter as she flicked through the cripplingly large batch of paperwork. 

“Give it here then.” The blonde man snarled in return as he cast his gaze at the clock on the far wall. 

He’d been sure that if he got to the Magical Registry and Documents Office early then he’d not only beat any possible queues but he would be able to get this nasty business sorted out quickly. That, it would seem, was not the case. It turned out he needn’t have been worried about queues because no-one was stupid enough to bother coming into an office that was being run by a human-sloth. Forty-five minutes had already ticked past and the secretary was not even half way through the mountain of forms he’d been required to sign. It was true what they said: divorce required far more signatures than a marriage contract. 

As he shoved the newly completed appendix 4A back to the woman, Draco heard the office door close quietly behind him. Turning his head slightly, he was surprised to find his gaze locking onto a familiar – though watery and red, he noted – pair of green eyes. The black hair was even messier than normal as it now pointed out like a hedgehog and draped itself over the perfectly circular frames of the man’s glasses. Harry Potter still looked exactly like Harry Potter. This would have bothered Draco -who found himself worrying about looking older – if the man didn’t look so decidedly awful. 

“Is this… eh… the queue?” Potter practically whispered to him, his eyes flickering around the tiny office.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’d hardly call it a queue but yes, you’re next. Are you in for a divorce too? I thought that’d be all over the papers by now.”

The sudden stillness of the man in front of him unnerved Draco slightly. After all these years, they couldn’t exactly call themselves friends – acquaintances at best. He very quickly began to worry that he had crossed the line of civil conversation into something that was more personal than either of them was comfortable with. It wasn’t often that Draco made such a social faux-pas: though he was sure he was only thrown off his guard by the irritating specimen behind the counter. 

Licking his lips and hazarding another glance back at the secretary, Draco wondered how long Potter planned on remaining silent. “Sorry, Potter. It’s been a long day and it’s only just started. I didn’t mean to overstep the mark. It wasn’t any of my business.”

Draco turned away from him now, thinking it best to leave the man to his own thoughts. Nobody wanted to go through a divorce – that was something he could sympathise with. Perhaps Potter hadn’t had long to get used to the idea and now this paperwork was stirring up unpleasant thoughts. He’d had months to get used to his own situation but Draco surmised that this probably wasn’t the case for everyone else. At any rate, he was thankful that the secretary was finally reaching the bottom of the stack of paper. 

“Not a divorce. A death. I suppose it’s one and the same now, though.” He heard Potter state quietly behind him. 

It took Draco all of thirty seconds to comprehend what the other man could be talking about. A death? Well, Potter didn’t exactly have that many people left: though he chastised himself for thinking such a harsh thought. The additional talk of divorce meant that Potter could only be talking about Ginny Weasley. His wife. His heavily pregnant wife – there had been a picture in the Prophet last week under the headline “Potters Create The Next Golden Trio With New Arrival”. Draco found himself spinning around to face the man, so quickly that he thought he may accidentally apparate. “You must be joking!” 

Harry stared at the blonde, his eyes widening at the strange response. “Why would _anyone_ joke about that?!”

Blushing, Draco realised the stupidity of what he had just said and wondered if his Mother had slipped something into his tea this morning. “No. Shit. Again, I apologise, I don’t know what’s going through my mind today. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, ok,” Harry nodded, looking a little dazed before meeting Draco’s eyes. “You’re getting divorced?”

Now it was Draco’s turn to look like a rabbit in the headlights. He’d assumed everyone knew about the divorce after that scandalous piece in the paper. Astoria had worked wonders for herself despite the circumstances. “Yes.” He practically hissed. 

“From Astoria?” Potter sounded even more confused than he normally did.

“It may surprise you,” Draco drawled, doing the best impression of his Father that he could muster. “That I have only been married once, Potter. Therefore, Astoria being my first and _only_ wife, she will be the woman I am divorcing.” 

Suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed and as Draco felt a piece of paper being nudged against his elbow, he also saw that Potter’s eyes were welling up. The dark-haired man quickly looked away and Draco did likewise as he made a show of accepting his divorce certificate from the secretary. Turning back around, he was pleased to note that Harry had composed himself slightly. Harry? When did he start thinking of him as Harry? This day was getting stranger by the minute. 

“Next!” The ancient woman shouted so loud that Draco jumped and turned to cast a disgruntled glare at her. 

Harry moved slowly towards the desk, brushing up against Draco - though he hardly seemed to notice. Water threatened to spill from his eyes for a second time and Draco was disturbed to notice that his hands were trembling slightly as he passed over a ‘Death Notification Form’. It seemed off that no-one was here with the man when he was clearly not in a fit state to be conducting these sorts of errands. Surely Weasley could have come to the office. Though Draco swiftly reminded himself that the Weaslette’s family would all be grieving in similar ways to Harry. 

“Sorry about the loss, dearie.” The woman behind the counter broke out a small smile before loudly stamping ‘Accepted’ onto the form. “Take the certificate with you, there’s a duplicate included and you use that to get everything organised. Ok?”

Black hair fell back into Harry’s eyes as he nodded in understanding. Then, with a lazy flick of her wand, the secretary levitated a tightly-bound scroll of parchment over the counter. Draco found himself bitterly thinking that death only took up one minute of office time while divorce took up an entire hour. 

Minutes ticked past before Draco realised that he had been staring at Harry who, in turn, was staring at the levitated scrolls. He half expected the secretary to shout ‘next’ again but there was no-one else in the office. Sighing, Draco grabbed the parchment and shoved it quickly into the pocket of Harry’s black, flowing robe. It occurred to him that Potter was clearly channelling his inner Snape when he chose this particular item of clothing. A smirk swept across his face until a hand on his wrist broke him out of his nostalgic ponderings. “Thanks.” Harry whispered with damp eyes. 

Giving it only a split second of thought, Draco gripped the man’s hand tightly and turned on the spot.

***

Apparition was clearly enough of an unpleasant experience to knock Potter out of his misty-eyed reverie. The Harry Potter that confronted Draco now – at the gates of Malfoy Manor – was no weak, widowed, shell of a man. Draco tried not to take too much comfort in this as he allowed himself to meet the gaze of green steel before him. “What the hell are we doing here?!” Harry growled. 

“Having tea.” Draco tilted his chin upwards ever so slightly before turning and opening the gates with a swish of his wand. 

“Tea?” The word radiated disbelief. 

The November morning was still crisp across the Malfoy grounds as large, white peacocks strutted amongst the frosty hedges. Things had certainly changed here since the War; since Harry had last been here. Draco had been adamant that he would not remain living in a house that had held such unpleasant memories. It had taken months of begging, pleading, decorating, and renovating on Narcissa’s part before Draco had consented to living on the estate that was his birth right. Then, the arrival of Scorpius had meant that Draco had had the perfect excuse to litter the grounds with bursts of colour. 

“This is… your home?” Harry asked him quietly, in a bid to restore conversation. 

“The Manor, yes. I know it looks a little different. I… didn’t consider how much you might not want to be here when I apparated.” Draco rubbed his chin gently, considering that this had been his second social error in less than twelve hours. 

“It’s fine,” Harry shook his head. “Was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” 

Draco nodded his agreement and the pair continued their journey up the long drive in silence. It occurred to Draco that bringing Harry Potter to Malfoy Manor was probably not the best idea. What if Astoria had come to see Scorpius? What if Narcissa decided to play host? The opportunities for this situation to become even more awkward were numerous. 

He needn’t have worried so much as he pushed the front door open and was met with the deep silence of an empty house. For the first time in his life, Draco was relieved to find himself alone in the Manor. Harry entered behind him and he watched carefully while the man’s eyes studied the entrance hall. Of course, Draco knew he must be mentally comparing what he saw now to what he had seen years before. However, this thought was cut short by the arrival of Denby the house elf. 

“Welcome home, Master Draco. Does the Sir be in need of anything for himself and the visitor?” The elf croaked. 

Over the last five years, Draco had grown accustomed to the presence of Denby and wondered what the elf thought of his Master having a surprise visitor. After all, Draco had been careful to manage all of his social calls since Scorpius was born. “Denby, we will have tea in the drawing room.” 

***

Silence in the room was only broken up by the soft tinkling of a teaspoon stirring sugar into a cup. _This_ Harry Potter was nothing like the one Draco remembered. _This_ Harry Potter had not called him ‘Malfoy’ once since their meeting. He didn’t think Harry had referred to him at all so far actually. The man was quiet, unassuming, and seemed to lack confidence. He was also sitting in Draco’s drawing room having tea and, thus far, had not ran out of the Manor screaming and hexing. 

“Listen Potter,” Draco sighed, trying to find the correct words to avoid another error. “I’m sorry to hear about your wife. I can’t imagine, with her being pregnant and all, how difficult this is.”

“She wasn’t pregnant.” Harry murmured into his cup with an absent demeanour. 

Silently cursing the Prophet, Draco scowled at having managed to somehow say the wrong thing _again_. Perhaps this was a bad dream. He should have known better than to take the Prophet’s word for it – they would do anything for a story, hadn’t they proven that with Astoria? Those people were not above conjuring up downright lies to sell a paper. “She gave birth to the baby first.” Harry’s words cut into his thoughts. 

“Oh.” It was an inelegant response but Draco had given up trying to find the correct words. 

“Everything seemed to be going well, you know? The birthing thing is always crap but it’s such a small part. You’ve got a son, don’t you?” Draco nodded but remained silent, allowing Harry to continue. “Well, we’ve already had the two boys so we thought this would be a walk in the park. We knew what to expect this time and the last two births had been textbook. Ginny wasn’t sure about having a third…. Didn’t want a big family…. I was the opposite. Two boys, how could we not go for a girl?”

“And did you get a girl, this time?” Draco quietly added to the conversation. 

A small smile broke out across Harry’s features and Draco inwardly sighed in relief. He had started to wonder if the man he’d known since age 11 was irreversibly broken. “Her name is Lily Luna. After my Mother, of course. And you remember Luna Lovegood?”

Draco did, indeed, remember Looney Lovegood – the strange, blonde Ravenclaw that he was quite sure was insane. He was quick to hide his opinions behind a forced smile so as not to upset Harry again. “We’d picked out the name in advance. Good job really because otherwise I’d always be wondering if I’d picked the right thing. She was born on my Godfather’s birthday – Sirius Black – November 3rd. She picked well.”

“Yes, Sirius was my Mother’s cousin as far as I’m aware. But Harry, today is the fifth of November, what are you doing out of the house?!” Draco tried to contain his shock but failed miserably. 

“You called me Harry.” The voice smiled. 

Rolling his eyes, Draco kicked himself for using the name out loud. “Well, it is your name.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” The voice had gone back to sounding somewhat deflated. “Anyway, I had to go out and register… Ginny. With the boys and now Lily, I don’t have much time for other things. And Hermione – you remember Hermione and Ron? – they’ve just had their son Hugo, he’s not even two months old, they can’t look after another newborn all the time. And Molly – you remember the Weasley’s? – she’s grieving and trying to help with the kids and help with the arrangements for the funeral.”

Draco stared at the man who seemed, finally, to have finished speaking. It was news to him that Granger and Weasley had had another child; he wondered why it wasn’t in the paper? Their first one had been in the paper. Maybe their celebrity status was dwindling. 

“You will come to the funeral, won’t you?” Harry’s watery, green eyes pleaded with him. “Please?”

In his mind, Draco conjured up the 1001 reasons why going to Ginny Weasley’s funeral was a terrible idea and why Harry, of all people, wouldn’t want him there. None of these reasons managed to make their way into speech as Draco found himself nodding in agreement. How could he say no to The Chosen One? 

***

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked as he stepped out of the Floo onto the tile floor of the kitchen. “Where have you been?! We were so worried!”

Harry, again, found himself in tears as he was scooped into his best friend’s arms. Despite his distress, Hermione continued her ranting until Harry was placed firmly at the kitchen table: where she could keep an eye on him. The clock told him that he had been gone for just over three hours and guilt swept over him for not informing his family where he’d been. They must have been going out of their minds with worry. Especially after Ginny. 

In the distant rooms of the house, Harry could hear the voice of his children playing with their cousin, Rose. The now familiar feeling of dread consumed him as he thought about having to tell his sons that their Mother would not be coming back. Not for the first time, he considered never broaching the subject. Perhaps they would never ask and then he wouldn’t be obligated to tell. 

“Harry, where were you? I know Ethel is slow in that office but I expected you back hours ago.” Hermione sighed with one hand on her hip as she began to pour water into a teapot.

“I’m so sorry Hermione, I didn’t mean to leave you with the kids for so long.”

Spinning around, Hermione fixed her best friend with a fierce glare. “Harry James Potter. You should know by now that I have _no problem_ with watching the children. James is my Godson for goodness sake and I’m their Aunt!”

“Yeah but with Hugo-“

“No!” Hermione cut him off. “This has nothing to do with the kids. Harry, you disappeared for hours when your wife has just died and you’ve just had another baby. That’s what was worrying me, not the kids.”

While Harry rubbed at his eyes - when was the last time he slept? – Hermione placed a mug of coffee in front of him and slid into the chair opposite. He’d been so happy when Lily was born, it seemed like a gift from Sirius. Ginny had been overwhelmed with joy as they bundled their new, little girl into blankets and held her close. Losing his wife had happened so quickly and then he had sat there alone, cuddling the little girl who had barely known her Mother. “How was the office?” Hermione enquired gently, reaching across the table to hold his hand. 

“I met Draco Malfoy and we had tea.” Harry smiled at the absurdity of what had happened. 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione tried a smile. “I didn’t expect you to be making jokes so soon…”

“It’s not a joke, Hermione.” Suddenly, Harry was very serious. “He was filing his divorce. From Astoria. I was upset and he took me back to the Manor and we had tea.”

It seemed that Hermione was stunned into silence as she said nothing for a long time. Harry watched her carefully, hoping that she didn’t think he was insane. He was willing to admit that if the circumstances had been different he never would have gone for tea with Malfoy but it hadn’t been all that bad. The man had matured as far as he could tell. 

“You went to…. Malfoy Manor? Alone, Harry?” Her concern was evident. 

It had been a long time since Harry had thought about the horrible things that had happened to Hermione during their time at Malfoy Manor. So much time had passed and so many other, better, happier things had happened. He would never forget the war and its horrors but it no longer consumed his life. Sighing, he knew he had to appease his best friend. 

“’Mione, it was fine. Malfoy was different, he listened, that’s all. The Manor doesn’t look so grim either. I guess living with Voldemort would force anyone to redecorate.” 

Now it was Hermione’s turn to sigh. “I know Draco has changed, Harry. Remember I told you, that year I went back to Hogwarts? We were all effected by the war but it was harder for him, I think, having been on the ‘losing’ side. All of his beliefs crumbled in front of him but he readjusted. He’s lost most of the prejudice now. I saw about his divorce in the paper.”

“The paper?” Harry’s interest was piqued. 

Hermione eyed him carefully. “Yes, it was in the Prophet. His wife gave a horrible interview. With Skeeter you never know how much is true, though. _There’s_ someone who will never change…” 

“Was it amicable? The split?” He wasn’t sure why he cared, but it suddenly seemed important to him that Draco Malfoy was happy. 

“Well, it depends how much you believe,” Hermione mulled it over as she took a sip from her mug. “His wife had plenty to say but I suppose that’s a money thing. She won’t have managed to gain much from the divorce with there being adultery involved.”

“Adultery?”

“I don’t like to gossip… but it was in the papers….” She shot him a guilty smile. “Astoria left Draco for Gregory Goyle.”

“GOYLE?!” The name ripped from his mouth with venom. 

Hermione blinked at the strength of his reaction before continuing. “Yes, Goyle. Skeeter got all sorts of pictures of them together. Really, Harry, how did you not know this? It was _all over_ the paper.”

“Forgive me for dealing with a pregnant wife and two small children over reading the gossip columns.” Harry rolled his eyes as his friend tutted. 

“I’ve been pregnant, looking after Rose - I worked right up until Hugo was born - managed to get my translated Tales of Beadle the Bard in for publishing _and_ still read the paper Harry.”

“It’s not a competition….” Grumbled Harry under his breath. 

“No, it’s not.” Hermione sighed softly. “Back to what I was saying. It was in the paper that there had been an affair. The photographs were very convincing and I imagine it was horrible for Draco if he didn’t already know it was going on. Skeeter wrote that a divorce was imminent but obviously Draco never confirmed. Then Astoria gave a full interview. She turned it into some sort of whirlwind romance, sweeping her away from her loveless marriage.”

“With… Goyle?” Harry was not convinced that the lump he remembered from school was capable of a ‘whirlwind romance’. “He was Draco’s friend… what an arse.”

“It does seem a little odd but Astoria made it very clear that she had left Draco. There was plenty of slander involved….”

“He’s coming to the funeral.” Harry said suddenly, startling Hermione. 

The two friends looked at each other, neither of them quite sure what to say. Inviting Draco to the funeral had felt like a good thing at the time but now it seemed crazy. Friendship had never really developed between them and Ginny would never have thought to invite Draco. 

***

Frost settled, white and crisp, over Godric’s Hollow as the morning sun sat cloudless in the sky. The November air was bitter and Harry reckoned that if they had been Muggles, a burial in the cold ground may have been difficult. At least it won’t rain, Harry thought to himself as he tried to stop Albus from rolling in the grass. “James, can you please come away from that grave!” 

The four-year-old rolled his eyes at his Father and pulled at the black tie around his neck. “Daddy, what are the big stones for?” 

It was an innocent question but it hurt Harry’s heart. His children were too young to be at a funeral and if it hadn’t been their Mother, he would have hired a babysitter. “James, the stones have the person’s name written on them so that their family can come and visit them. Now come here, please.”

James shrugged and the messy hair that he’d inherited from his Father fell into his eyes. There had been times in the last week where Harry was sure that James fully understood what had happened. Then there were times like this, where he didn’t seem to have a care in the world, in which Harry knew his Mother’s death hadn’t set in. 

“We’ll take them inside, dear. They’ll catch a chill.” Molly’s soft voice was behind him and taking Albus’s hand out of his own. 

Harry gave her a small smile and watched as she gave James such a death stare that he ran to her side instantly. He wondered when he would gain that sort of parental authority over his children. One day he would remember to ask Molly for tips on how it was done. Within two minutes, Molly Weasley had ushered her grandchildren into the tiny church and occupied them with a game of ‘I spy’. 

“Your kids look like you, Harry.” A voice from his distant past spoke from behind him. 

Turning, he was confronted with an adult Dudley Dursley. The years hadn’t been unkind to Dudley and Harry was pleasantly surprised to see his cousin looking so slim – though still slightly overweight around the middle. Harry could almost hear his Aunt Petunia shrieking about how handsome her Duddikins is and gave a small smile at the thought. It had been a few years since he had last seen Dudley in the flesh but they had managed to forge some sort of civil relationship since the War. The same could not be said about his relationship with his Aunt and Uncle. 

“Mum and Dad couldn’t make it.” Dudley forced a smile.

Harry nodded, knowing it was a lie but thankful that Dudley had cared enough not to speak the truth. “Good of you to come, Big D.” 

Dudley laughed under his breath and thumped Harry lightly on his shoulder. “Shit circumstances for a reunion. Harry, I know you’ve probably heard it a lot but… I’m sorry about all this. Laura has just found out she’s pregnant again and ever since I heard about this…. I’m sorry, I’m not good with words.” 

Blinking, Harry smiled at his cousin and was quietly impressed that he had managed to say as much as he had. He thought it was a testament to how far they had come that Dudley was here for him on the day of his wife’s funeral. It gave Harry hope for the future. “We’ll have to set up a playdate with the kids.”

“Yes! We’re due in June with the next one. Give Luke someone to play with. What have you named your new baby? You never said…” 

“Lily.”

“Like your Mum.” Dudley smiled. 

Harry beamed at his cousin and wondered if he was having an out of body experience. “Yes, like my Mum. You know James was named after my Dad and Albus, well, you met Dumbledore.” 

“Could you imagine if I named this next one Petunia?”

“No offense Dudley but please don’t.”

The cousins laughed – forgetting for a minute that they were at a funeral. Harry realised he’d needed this moment today. He’d never imagined that he could have a real relationship with Dudley but it had bothered him in recent years. If his Aunt and Uncle hadn’t been so twisted, they could have been as close as brothers. Now, it felt as if they really were. 

“I think we’d best go in now, Harry. It’s almost time. Then after I’ll tell you a bit of gossip that’ll really make you laugh.”

“Oh?” Harry wondered what Dudley could possibly tell him. “Did your Dad sprout wings?”

***

The service had been elegant, beautiful, and gut-wrenching for Harry. Ginny’s death suddenly became very real and despite promising himself that he would remain composed, he sobbed uncontrollably. It was only Ron’s reminder that the children were present – and becoming alarmed – that brought Harry back to reality. For a few minutes, he’d been overcome with the grief he had suppressed for days. 

Now he sat in the private room within the local pub at Godric’s Hollow, surrounded by well-wishers and a buffet provided by Molly. Dudley sat to his right while Ron and Hermione sat on Harry’s left. Overwhelmed barely scratched the surface of his feelings. Despite being around plenty of people he loved, Harry felt lonelier than ever. His eyes remained fixed on his son James as he chased Teddy Lupin, Victoire, Dominique and Louis. It warmed his heart some to know that his children would have their family around them. 

“Luke’s about the same age as your James, a little younger, I think.” 

Dudley’s cautious tone caught Harry’s attention. “You said you had gossip for me, Dudley!” He suddenly remembered his cousin’s promise from earlier in the day.

This grabbed the attention of Ron and Hermione, who eyed Dudley with suspicion and made the ex-bully blush. It would seem that Dudley no longer liked being the centre of attention. “It’s about Luke, Harry.”

Harry’s stomach filled with dread as he expected to hear bad news. He really wasn’t sure he could handle more misery today. “Is he…. Ok?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s one of your lot, Harry.” Dudley said with a practised confidence. 

As had been promised earlier, Harry laughed heartily at this turn of events. Having expected to hear something awful, this development cheered him up considerably. He could only imagine how his Aunt and Uncle had reacted once little Luke had shown signs of magic. 

“I knew you’d laugh.” Dudley smirked though the smile did not reach his eyes. “I suppose it’s karma but there must be magic in the family. Just skipped my Mum, eh?” 

“Took a bloody big diversion, I’d say.” Ron piped up as he sipped at his beer. 

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry sat back, knowing that she was about to begin a speech. “You know, Dudley, this isn’t something to be worried about. Harry’s a wizard and he has grown up fine. Besides, I’m muggle-born – my parents are dentists – and as far as we know there’s not a trace of magic in my family before me.” 

“Oh, I know it’ll be fine!” Dudley seemed confused – a look Harry knew too well. “I’m not… I’ve grown up, you know. I’m not like my parents. I know Harry’s not a … a freak. I was thinking that it would be good for Luke to spend more time with his cousins.”

“Yes.” Harry nodded decidedly, leaving no room for argument. “They’ll all go to school together, in the end. We should start somewhere.”

“Yes, you’re completely right.” A smooth, new voice joined the conversation and as Harry lifted his head, he met a set of fixed, grey eyes. 

“Draco!” 

The blonde man blushed and quickly threw himself into a chair across from Harry. “Potter, I know this invite wasn’t given when you were in the best of states –“

“I’m not insane!” 

“I never said you were! I was meaning that, well, Malfoy’s don’t just ignore an invitation and I was showing my respects, is all.” The blush had snaked down the man’s neck. 

Ron snorted in disgust next to Hermione. “Pity you didn’t do that while she was alive, eh?” 

“Ron!” Hermione growled dangerously. “Now is not the time, let it go! You’re not 15 anymore and I’m not having our kids see you acting like an idiot.” 

Looking thoroughly chastised, Ron went back to sipping at his drink under Hermione’s ferocious stare. Harry wondered if she had obtained tips from Molly and made a mental note to question her about this later. Maybe it was a ‘Mum’ thing he thought but quickly shelved that idea when his heart gave a sharp pang. “Thanks for coming, Draco. I was just saying that all our kids will be going to school together – this is my cousin Dudley, his son Luke is magical.” 

“You’re a muggle?” Draco looked impressed and Harry wondered if this was what Hermione meant when she said the man had changed. 

“A Muggle?” Dudley looked confused again. 

“Non-magical people, Dudley. You.” Harry added quietly. 

Draco eyed Dudley with the sort of curiosity Harry could only remember seeing on Arthur Weasley when he brought him a new muggle product. It occurred to Harry that Draco may never have met another muggle before. Had the blonde’s life been that sheltered? 

“Regardless, if your son is magical he will go to Hogwarts just the same as my own son will.” Draco said with an easy composure that reminded Harry of Lucius. 

Dudley didn’t seem sure what to think of Draco. “You have a son?” 

Harry leaned forward, eager to learn about Draco’s life as a father. He knew the other man had a son but he couldn’t picture Draco as a parent. There were times when he struggled to view _himself_ as a parent, let alone anyone else. “Yes. His name is Scorpius. I believe he’s similar in age to Harry’s son, Albus.” 

“Really?” Hermione brightened at this. “That would mean he’s close to Rose, too! Imagine if they all ended up in the same house!”

At this, Draco snorted - though Harry could tell it was in good humour as opposed to the malicious sneer he would have expected to see in the past. “Unless two of the Gryffindor Golden Trio have produced a Slytherin then I think you’ll need to rethink that idea, Granger.” 

“I don’t bloody think so!” Ron looked affronted at the idea and immediately retreated back to his drink under Hermione’s stare. 

“Ronald Weasley,” Hermione began. “If one of our children is a Slytherin then that will be perfectly fine, we will support them just as we would if they were Gryffindors. I think after all we’ve been through, it’s time to let all that nonsense stay in the past.” 

Harry rose his glass to toast this idea and was quickly joined by everyone else at the table: even a slightly confused Dudley seemed to agree with the sentiment. Looking across the room, he caught sight of Teddy Lupin and remembered the sacrifices that had been made to make this sort of conversation possible. Even in his grief, Harry was certain that he didn’t want his children to grow up divided. He and Draco may never be friends but that didn’t mean their children couldn’t be. 

***

_Dear Draco,_  
_I remember you said that your son was close in age to Albus. His birthday is the 29th of November and we will be having a small birthday party to celebrate Albus turning 2. It will be held at The Burrow as it is also Bill Weasley’s birthday but regardless, we would like to invite you and your son to the party._  
_Please send your reply by return owl._  
_Harry._


	2. I: Invitations

### I: Invitations

#### November 5th 2007 Continued

_Dear Draco,_   
_I remember you said that your son was close in age to Albus. His birthday is the 29th of November and we will be having a small birthday party to celebrate Albus turning 2. It will be held at The Burrow as it is also Bill Weasley’s birthday but regardless, we would like to invite you and your son to the party._   
_Please send your reply by return owl._   
_Harry._

The snowy owl nipped at Draco’s hand as he read the piece of parchment for a third time. Rummaging in his pocket, he found a spare owl treat to placate the bird with while he considered his reply. At the other end of the table, Narcissa was attempting to get Scorpius to eat his lunch with little success. “What’s wrong, dragon?” The woman enquired, having caught Draco staring. 

“Nothing. Scorpius has been invited to a birthday party.”

“Oh! His first invitation! Do you hear that Scorpius?” She went back to cooing at the toddler.

“Sssh Mother, I don’t think we’ll be going.” Draco went back to re-reading the invitation. 

Narcissa stilled before regaining her full height and staring at her son. “What do you mean he won’t be going? He’s been _invited_ , Draco.” 

“Mother, he’s not even two years old. He doesn’t know the difference.” Draco refrained from rolling his eyes, lest his Mother hex him. 

“Draco! He has been invited! To a birthday party! His first invitation, Draco!”

Draco blinked as his Mother swooped upon him, plucking the parchment from his hands in the process. A second passed before he realised what was happening and in that time, Narcissa had begun conducting a reply for the fussy owl which was now hooting and flapping its wings. Scorpius began hooting in response while Draco wrinkled his nose at the small boy – Malfoys did _not_ do bird imitations. 

“Draco this party is in _four days_ , they haven’t given us much time to prepare….” The woman worried to herself. 

“Mother,” Draco put on a long-suffering tone that he reserved only for his parents. “He’s been invited to _attend_ the party, not _host_ the party.” 

Narcissa batted a hand at her son before tying a response to the owl’s foot and moving out of the way as it took flight. The years had hardly touched Narcissa Malfoy who maintained a regal look – despite Scorpius’s best attempts to cover her in food. It pleased Draco to watch his Mother assuming such a hands-on role with Scorpius. She always put his best interests at heart and Draco knew that he was powerless against her when it came to the little boy. 

“Draco,” Narcissa seemed exasperated with her son. “Do you not realise that Scorpius is nearly two and has had no interaction with other children? He needs _friends_ , darling.”

At this, Draco scowled and sat down at the dark, mahogany table. It hadn’t crossed his mind that his son might need friends. He’d assumed Scorpius was too young but that he would naturally make friends as he got older. Yet there was little chance of that happening if there was no opportunity to find a friend. The Manor could be a lonely place for an only child: Draco knew that only too well. 

“Scorpius, I think we need to go shopping.” Draco declared as he pulled himself back out of his seat. 

“S’opping?” The toddler enquired. 

***

Diagon Alley was as quiet as Draco had expected given that it was a Tuesday in late November. Most Hogwarts’ students would be going home for Christmas in only a couple of weeks’ time and then the shops would come alive with decorations. He would bring Scorpius to see the pretty lights and fireworks but today was business, not pleasure. A Malfoy was not going to embarrass himself at the first party he had been invited to by not purchasing a decent present. Draco held the small, blonde child close to his chest as he began to navigate the street. 

“Well, Scorpius. What would your friend Albus like for his birthday?” He wondered, mostly to himself.

“A CAT!” The child screeched, and Draco nearly dropped him in surprise.

Quickly looking around to check no-one had heard his son making such a scene, Draco frowned. “Scorpius, not so loud, please. We can’t get Albus a cat.” 

Immediately the boy’s eyes started to water and a wail rippled along the deserted street. Draco blushed, rocking the squirming toddler in his arms in an effort to appease him. “Come on, Scorpius, we can go and get some sweeties if you’re quiet.” 

The child screamed louder, exclaiming about a cat repeatedly as Draco’s milky-white skin turned a furious scarlet. Passers-by stopped to stare, snickering behind their hands. “Feel free to take a picture,” Draco screamed at them, finally losing his patience. “It’ll last longer!!!”

The strangers tutted to themselves, muttering about rudeness but Draco didn’t care. “Haven’t you ever seen a child throw a tantrum?!” He continued to shout. 

Scorpius’s cries had softened since his Father’s outbursts and he glared at his parent as though _he_ was the one embarrassed. “Fine, we’ll get a damn cat.” Draco huffed at his son’s audacity. 

“Damn Cat.” Scorpius smiled to himself at Draco’s look of horror. 

No amount of bribery was enough to quench Scorpius’s desire to scream ‘damn cat’ on his way down the street and, in the end, Draco decided to ignore it and thus not give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He’d read somewhere in a parenting book that this was an appropriate way of handling a swear-word-situation. Though Draco was very aware that his Mother may gut him like a fish if Scorpius still found this amusing by the time they got home.

Thankfully the window of The Magical Menagerie was enough to distract Scorpius’s attention from the fun of his Father’s humiliation. In their line of vision, a cage held a mass of fluffy, sleeping kittens. Resigned to his fate, Draco pushed open the door of the establishment and kept a tight grip on his toddler as they navigated their way around the cages. 

“Can I help you?” A tall, elderly man growled from Draco’s right.

Shifting Scorpius so that he could speak to the shop-owner, Draco cleared his throat. “We are shopping for a kitten. My son has been invited to the birthday party of another boy and he would like to gift him with a kitten.” 

“Pets aren’t toys, you know.” 

Draco hadn’t really accounted for such hostility but persevered regardless. “No, certainly not. I have it on good authority that the family are animal lovers though.” 

It was a stretch of the truth – Draco had no idea how Harry would feel about a cat but he didn’t think the Gryffindor would abandon it in the rain. If the shopkeeper doubted his sincerity, he certainly didn’t care enough to continue with an argument. Grumbling, the old man shuffled towards the cage and extracted one of the balls of fluff with one hand. The creature was then -rather forcefully- thrust at Draco. “Nine galleons.” The shopkeeper snarled. 

Scorpius entertained himself with the kitten as Draco dug around in his pocket for the correct money - while reminding Scorpius to be gentle. He paused in asking the man if he could provide a box to transport the animal but then thought better of it. It seemed clear to Draco that he was outstaying his welcome though he made a mental note never to return to the store. If the man was hoping to make a profit, he was going the wrong way about it. 

‘Damn Cat’ returned to Scorpius’s vocabulary as he snuggled the kitten against his cheek lovingly. The image was so cute that Draco resolved to buy the toddler a kitten of his own for Christmas. He apparated back to Malfoy Manor while pushing back doubts as to whether Harry Potter would be ok with a new addition to his family. 

***

For reasons he didn’t quite understand, Draco was nervous about attending this party. His son, he was pleased to note, was literally bouncing with excitement. The scene would have been cute if Narcissa was not currently trying to wrestle the toddler into his first, ever, set of dress robes. Draco had tried to convince her that Potter probably wasn’t going for a formal theme but if his Mother had been listening, she certainly didn’t care. A pang of worry shot through him as he considered that his son might be the odd one out. “Mother, if he doesn’t want to wear the robes…. I’m sure he’ll be fine in the shirt.” 

“Nonsense, Draco!” His Mother was beginning to lose patience. “Don’t you want him to look the part?”

Sighing, Draco decided to fight his corner. “Actually Mother, I _do_. I don’t know if you heard me yesterday when I said that it was unlikely that this would be a formal occasion. Harry Potter’s cousin will be attending and he’s…. well, he’s a muggle.” 

There was a stillness as his Mother gave up trying to restrain Scorpius and stood up to look at her son. Over the years, Narcissa Malfoy had been forced to readjust her thinking and her status in the world. This, Draco knew, was another instance in which his Mother would have to alter her beliefs. “I don’t know how to dress him like a muggle, Draco.” The admission was barely audible. 

“The shirt and trousers will do fine, Mother. When it’s Scorpius’s birthday we will have something more formal.” 

A small smile flitted across Narcissa’s face. “His first party?”

“A small one,” Draco conceded, knowing from experience not to let his Mother get carried away.

***

The Burrow was larger than Draco had expected and, he loathed to admit, far more welcoming than the Manor. Having grown up to view the Weasleys as disgustingly poor, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. It’s in the past, he told himself. Never again would he judge a person’s worth based on their income. “You must be Draco,” A plump, ginger woman smiled as he stepped out of the Floo. 

“Yes, Draco Malfoy, pleased to meet you.” He rushed to outstretch his hand and was swiftly enveloped in an unexpected hug. 

“Molly Weasley, dear. And who is this lovely, little charmer?” 

Draco rolled his eyes as the Weasley matriarch cooed over his son. The toddler revelled in the attention – the boy clearly had no shame. Well, he had inherited the strikingly good looks of his Father so he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Even Weasleys were helpless against the Malfoy charm, it seemed. 

“Draco, Scorpius!” A warm voice called from the far end of the kitchen. “I wondered when you were going to arrive, Albus is so excited to have someone new to play with.” 

“Harry.” Draco extended his hand and was pleased to note that it was shaken firmly this time. 

“What’s in the box?” Potter smiled, staring curiously at the box protruding from Draco’s robes. 

“Ah, well, it’s a gift.” Draco flushed and placed Scorpius on the floor. “Scorpius chose it for Albus. I really hope it’s not an inconvenience.”

“AL!!” Harry shouted so loud that Draco was momentarily taken aback. “Come and greet your guests!!”

The situation was so surreal that Draco didn’t quite know how to process it all at once. Firstly, there was his son who was shamelessly accepting cuddles, kisses, and sweeties from a bizarrely welcoming Mrs Weasley. Then there was Harry Potter who seemed far more relaxed than he had been two weeks ago – though he was still sporting dark circles under his eyes. Red-haired children were crowded around a kitchen table playing Exploding Snap while their parents flitted in and out. It was too casual. Too normal. 

To top it off, a tiny clone of The Chosen One had just ran into the kitchen and thrown himself against Harry’s leg. Seeing the boy for the first time up close, the resemblance shocked Draco. Albus Potter looked as much like his Father as Scorpius did. “Hi.” The little boy smiled behind a shock of black hair. 

Draco bent down to address the child directly. “Hello, Albus. My name is Draco and this,” Draco tugged gently at Scorpius’s arm until he was stood with his Father. “Is my son Scorpius.”

“Hi” The two-year-old repeated, feigning shyness. 

“’Lo.” Scorpius beamed with delight. 

“We brought you a present.” Draco smiled and passed the box over to Albus. 

Harry bent down beside his son now and helped him to discard of the ribbon. “Wow, look at this Al. It’s a baby cat!” 

“Damn Cat.” Scorpius said with some severity. 

Silence filled the room until Albus erupted into giggles. Draco sighed in relief as Harry chuckled alongside his son. The kitten was scooped up by Mrs Weasley who vowed to find a ‘quiet place’ for the animal away from the hands of too many children. Scorpius was led off to play by Albus and Draco smiled to see his son accepted so readily into the fold. Only now was he willing to admit how worried he had been that Scorpius may not fit in with the Weasley children. 

The adults had congregated in the Weasley’s sitting room which looked as if it had been extended to accommodate so many people. Draco made himself comfortable in a squishy armchair close to Hermione Granger and not far from Harry’s cousin, Dudley. With some eavesdropping, it was discovered that Arthur Weasley was interrogating the poor muggle into explaining how the television worked. Dudley’s explanation of a remote control left a lot to be desired, Draco thought.

“So, Draco….” Granger turned to him with only a trace of awkwardness. “I’m not sure what it is you do now – for a career, that is.”

Blushing, Draco took an inelegant swig from his bottle of butterbeer. “It’s been… Well, I’ve taken some time off. I wanted to be there for Scorpius and it’s not that I really need to work. Though I was thinking of branching out into, well, a bookstore…. In the future.” 

To his great relief, Granger nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds wonderful, Draco. You can never have too many shops for books. I recently finished translating _The Tales of Beadle the Bard_ from the original. It will be published on January 2nd.” 

“I’d heard about that,” Draco nodded, impressed by her accomplishments. “I had been thinking to acquire a copy for Scorpius’s birthday. It’s a few days after the release date. Don’t you work for the Ministry?” 

“Oh, yes!” Hermione smiled, not wanting to appear too immodest. “I became the Head of Magical Law Enforcement about five years ago now. Before that I’d been working for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I’d always felt strongly about obtaining better working rights for House Elves and removing the stigma attached to Werewolves and the like.” 

Of course, Granger had started that society at school, Draco remembered. Her successes in the Ministry had been well documented and Draco had always been quietly jealous that she had achieved so much at such a young age. Not that he had ever truly aspired to join the Ministry. It had only taken a few months back at Hogwarts for Draco to really recognise Hermione Granger’s brilliance after the War. 

“I suppose it is you that I should thank for obtaining Denby, then.” Draco smiled softly. 

“Your Elf?” 

“Yes. Your Elf Registry system was long overdue, I think. It had been a nightmare trying to replace our previous elf.” 

The conversation was cut short by the arrival of an oversized birthday cake and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. Draco found himself joining in with the cheers as Albus Potter and, Draco assumed, Bill Weasley blew out the candles. What Draco had assumed were profiteroles suddenly erupted into a swam of bite-sized golden snitches that buzzed over to each person in the room. It was the sort of fun, surprising cake that Draco would never have received as a child but he made a note to himself that Scorpius should receive something similar in January. 

All the worries that he had built up over coming to the party melted away as Draco watched Scorpius share a cake-snitch with Albus Potter. He hadn’t expected to receive a welcome as warm as this: he knew he didn’t deserve it even if the past was in the past. Every now and then he would notice the suspicion in the eyes of a Weasley brother but Hermione Granger became his saviour. The witch could talk for hours and seemed to have some genuine interest in how Draco’s life was progressing. When Draco finally noticed that Scorpius was yawning frequently, he gave sincere thanks to Harry and Mrs Weasley for their hospitality and stepped into the floo with new found confidence. 

***

#### Sunday 2nd December 2007 Daily Prophet

##### HARRY POTTER CELEBRATES CHRISTMAS DESPITE TRAGIC CIRCUMSTANCES

_The Saviour of the Wizarding World, Defeater of Voldemort, Mr Harry Potter was seen yesterday at Diagon Alley’s Annual Light Display. The event each year marks the start of the Christmas shopping season but no-one would have expected Mr Potter to be making public appearances this year. Tomorrow will mark one month since the death of Ginny Potter [formerly known as Weasley] after a tragic birth experience. Little is known about the tragic loss of Mr Potter’s wife or of the child that was brought into the world on that fateful day. Certainly, Mr Potter was notably seen without the addition of a new baby though he was accompanied by sons James [4] and Albus [2]. Sources exclusive this newspaper have revealed that the latest addition to the Potter family was a little girl but no name has been confirmed. See our baby-name guesses on page 5._

Silence reigned in the Potter kitchen that morning; even Glacio the owl had been quick to fly off to his perch once he had dumped the newspaper onto the table. Harry didn’t have the energy to be scandalised by the media’s reports on his loss but it bothered him that his daughter was the source of so much speculation. He hadn’t meant to keep her a secret from the world. After Molly Weasley Junior’s birthday party, the little girl had been far too fussy to take out into the cold, December air. Besides, Harry had felt it was important to spend some time with his sons who were in desperate need of his attention after so much upheaval. 

Ginny’s death had finally settled in and the boys were deeply confused. Albus had been certain that he could simply fly a broom to visit his Mother while James needed constant explanations for what had happened. Harry had ensured that each of his sons had a picture of their Mother, framed, near their beds but he was painfully aware that they would likely not remember her as time went on. Albus would likely struggle to recall her in a few short years while James may hold on to some small signs of recognition. It infuriated him that Lily had no chance at all of knowing her Mother or of making any memories with her. 

Throwing the newspaper into the bin, Harry watched the snow beginning to fall in the garden. This afternoon, if the weather allowed, he would take his children outside to build a snowman. For now, he only had his own company while his children enjoyed a sleepover at their grandparent’s house. Harry knew the children were a great comfort to Molly right now and he couldn’t resist a babysitter when it was offered. 

Becoming a single father to three very young children in such a harsh manner was starting to take its toll. Each day seemed to pass in a blur. Harry knew he was looking ill – he would often forget to shower, eat, or sleep. His life mostly revolved around the children and an obsessive desire to maintain normality for them. Somehow, he would find the strength to put up the Christmas tree and feign festive cheer. There would be bedtime stories, Santa Claus and piles of presents to look forward to. 

***

“This is crude…” Draco sneered into his morning coffee.

Narcissa looked up from spooning porridge into Scorpius’s mouth. “I don’t know why you still subscribe to that rag, darling.”

He wasn’t sure why he still paid for the paper either; after that interview with Astoria. Still, there were not many other newspapers to follow and he wasn’t quite ready to resort to _The Quibbler_. At least _The Prophet_ had an accurate sports section and tended to avoid bias when reporting on political issues. Reform had touched every part of the Wizarding World and the media was no exception. “Look here at this rubbish they’ve reported on Harry.” Draco’s contempt was evident. “As if the man hasn’t got enough to be getting on with – these leeches practically demand to be made privy to every part of his life.” 

“Mr Potter is a public figure,” Narcissa raised an eyebrow at her son. “I’m surprised he’s managed to keep his new child under wraps for this long.”

Frustrated, for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of, Draco threw the paper into the fire. “Why should he announce everything in the paper?”

“Oh dragon, why do you care so much?” From her tone, Draco knew his Mother was losing patience. 

“The man has lost his wife!”

“Lots of people lose loved ones.”

“Yes but Harry is –“

“What?” Narcissa was truly challenging him now. 

Ruffled, Draco sipped again at his coffee. “A friend.”

Sizing each other up carefully, Narcissa went back to coaxing Scorpius into eating some breakfast. Draco wanted to say that the child was old enough to be handling a spoon on his own but he didn’t think it wise to unsettle his Mother any further. Hadn’t she been the one to demand they attend that birthday party? He’d even seen her bestow a curt nod to Potter when they passed at the Diagon Alley Light Display. Mixed messages were not something Draco had much patience for. 

“Our children play together,” The blonde began carefully. “I don’t want them to grow up with any inherited grudges. If that means befriending Harry Potter then so be it. Besides, it doesn’t matter who they were writing about in that article: it’s still crude to report on a grieving man a month after his wife dies.” 

“You don’t owe him-“

“OWE?!” Draco lost his composure for a brief moment.

Narcissa grimaced at her son’s reaction – he was normally more controlled. “What I meant to say was that you and Mr Potter are now adults. You needn’t worry so much about him – or the papers.” 

“I can choose to worry about whoever I want – I don’t need your permission.” 

It wasn’t often that Draco spoke to his Mother so harshly and the speed with which he left the room had as much to do with his irritation as it did with fear of her reaction. He’d been pleased that his Mother had behaved civilly towards Harry at Diagon Alley but now he was nervous about how Scorpius’s birthday party might play out. The party, he grimaced, that he really didn’t want to have. Making arrangements with Astoria was already proving difficult. 

It wasn’t that Draco hated Astoria: in fact, if he was being honest with himself, the problem was that he cared for her a great deal. Divorce was not a word that he had ever imagined he would be applying to his own marriage. His parents had stayed together despite everything they had gone through and Draco had taken it for granted that his marriage would be the same. What he hadn’t banked on was Astoria’s loneliness. Showering his wife with material gifts could only ever get him so far if he wasn’t prepared to share his thoughts and emotions with her. 

In his musings, Draco found himself wondering if Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley had had as perfect a marriage as the media would have people believe. Did Harry give Ginny all those things that Astoria had wanted from Draco? The soft kisses; the pillow talk; the intimate dinners; and deep, long, emotional conversations. He had been romantic during the courtship but he had never imagined he would have to maintain that throughout their entire marriage. 

Now, Astoria was living in a town house in London with Gregory Goyle and though he was hurt, Draco couldn’t bring himself to be truly angry with them. Goyle was apparently able to give Astoria that constant affection she needed. Though Draco bitterly suspected that Goyle simply worshipped the woman because he knew she was so far out of his league. 

***

#### Saturday December 15th 2007

The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with festive merriment that Harry didn’t quite feel; though he had put on a brave face for his friends. It had become tradition for him, Hermione, Ron and Ginny to do their Christmas shopping together but this was the first year they had had to do it with a member missing. The feeling wasn’t helped by the constant media presence which had resulted in the bartender throwing a load of reporters out. Harry didn’t want to answer their stream of questions: How did he feel about having his first Christmas without his wife? How were the children coping? Would he be willing to give them a few words about his newest addition? Which toys were on the top of his children’s ‘Wish List’ this year? 

Hermione deposited a ridiculously large, frothing butterbeer in front of him with a tight smile. It seemed that under her forced, festive cheer she was feeling equally irritated. Ron and her had managed to maintain a sense of privacy recently that was clearly coming under threat now that ‘The Golden Trio’ had stepped out together. 

“At least we can call it a day now!” Ron smiled, his top lip smeared with froth. 

Harry nodded his agreement. “Can’t help but feel like Lily’s not got much for her first Christmas though.” 

“It’s hard to shop for a baby,” Hermione jumped in, noticing the glum expression on her best friend’s face. “We’ve probably got the same amount for Hugo.”

“They won’t even remember it this year!” Ron interjected: sounding unintentionally heartless. 

For the first time since entering the pub, Harry smiled at his friend’s complete lack of tact. Hermione, of course, tsked at Ron for not feeling some great sense of nostalgia over his son’s first Christmas. However, Harry felt a surge of warmth towards Ron who never seemed to get bogged down by life. For Ron, life was relatively simple and there was no need to stress over things that didn’t truly matter. Harry wondered if this perspective on life had been fostered as a result of the War or if Ron had always been this way and he just hadn’t noticed. 

His friends had been a massive support recently and Harry was unwaveringly grateful. Never did it escape his attention that Hermione and Ron were so willing to give up their time when they had very, busy, lives of their own. Hermione had given up afternoons to help him clean the house, Ron had helped him file paperwork, and both were more than happy to watch the children at the drop of a hat. He was finding the life of a single parent very difficult indeed. 

“Do you think Molly would mind wrapping these?” Harry gestured to the piles of bags at his feet. 

“Surprised you’re even asking, mate,” Ron said between slugs of his drink. “She does all ours.” 

Hermione sniffed. “I do their stockings!”

Ron pulled his wife into a half-hug to placate her. “I know, ‘Mione. I was about to say that it’s just because we can’t hide the presents from the kids at ours.”

This seemed to brighten Hermione’s mood. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling some guilt when it came to her children: no matter how much she loved her career. Ron had always supported her wholeheartedly but she worried that perhaps he would have preferred a wife that was more like his Mother. Hermione Granger-Weasley was _not_ Molly Weasley. 

“I know your Mum won’t mind doing the wrapping,” Harry pointedly looked at the table. “I just don’t want her to think that I’m not capable of doing it.”

He did not miss that his friends exchanged worried glances with each other. Over the last couple of weeks, he had noticed how often those worried looks emerged on the faces of his friends and family. Harry was beginning to feel slightly paranoid that they thought of him as an unfit Father: one too many offers to babysit would do that to any man. 

“Harry,” Hermione began in her diplomatic tone that he only ever heard her use at work. “We all know you’re having a hard time of it. Everyone wants to help and it’s not because they’re judging you. The only person that expects you to be going on as though everything is normal is _you_.” 

Bristling, Harry quickly changed the conversation: unaware of the beetle hiding in a nearby plant pot. 

***

#### Monday 24th December 2007

Draco Malfoy was proud to say this his Christmas tree was the _best_ tree within a 50km radius. In the worry that his son might ever remember this Christmas, he had gone slightly overboard: a whim that had been greatly encouraged by his parents. The tree was not only big enough to skim the ceiling of the Manor but was so bushy that the house elves had taken four hours to apply the necessary preservation spells. The tiniest string of white lanterns dusted across each branch, reflecting against the arrangement of glass ornaments that Draco had ordered especially. A glittering, silver Scorpion rode on the back of a sparkling, green dragon that hopped from branch to branch. 

The toddler’s excitement had been infectious as he squealed with delight each time the dragon passed his gaze. Draco had allowed Astoria to spend the day with their son, in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be returning until the following afternoon. Co-parenting was tense and awkward but they were making do as best they could. At least, Draco smiled, he had been able to put their son to bed on his own. He had mesmerised the little boy with the story of Santa Claus and his House Elves: even Denby had played along by feigning connections with Christmas Elves. 

Now, with a firewhiskey in hand, Draco finished wrapping the last of the presents. His son had a pile large enough to rival any piles that Draco had ever woken up to in his youth. While he had made a firm promise to himself that Scorpius would never be as spoilt as he had been, Draco couldn’t stop himself from splurging from time to time. Amongst the presents lay a toy racing broom; a colourful collection of children’s dragon stories; a stuffed, blue, miniature hippogriff that could fly around the room; and a small cauldron filled with chocolate frogs. Narcissa had literally gifted the child with a silver spoon; part of a ‘toddler’s first cutlery set’ that she had insisted her grandson must need. At the time of purchase, he had had to bite back a comment about first allowing Scorpius to eat on his own. 

Soon the grandfather clock – an old Malfoy family heirloom – would declare that Christmas Day had arrived but for now, Draco was glad to be left in peace. Tomorrow would be exhausting, given that Scorpius would likely be awake as soon as the sun threatened to rise. Then he would have to try and tolerate the company of his ex-wife and her new lover. For his son, he would bite his tongue and play happy families even if, inwardly, he wanted to hex them into oblivion. At least his Father would be likely to throw the cat amongst the pigeons every now and then; Lucius, though rather reclusive in recent years, always spent time with his family on big occasions. 

***

#### Wednesday 26th December 2007 Daily Prophet

##### Potter’s Festive Breakdown!

_As many viewers can no doubt sympathise, Harry Potter’s Christmas has been tainted by his family’s recent loss: that of Ginny Potter, his late wife. Reported earlier this month, Mr Potter was seen looking heartbroken and depressed as he conducted his Christmas shopping alongside Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ronald Granger-Weasley. Obviously, this reunion of The Golden Trio had been sparked by Mr Potter’s mental health as fans speculate that he is failing to cope. Who would blame him after having endured so much tragedy? Is this the straw that has broken the camel’s back? See Page 4 for full article._

Harry slammed his glass onto the paper so forcefully that liquid splashed out, smearing the ink of the headline. He’d managed to get through Christmas without a hitch. At 6am he had gladly woken up with his excited children and watched as they tore through their presents from beneath the tree. He’d dutifully presented himself and the children at the Weasley’s house for Christmas lunch where he had pulled crackers, told jokes and clapped at the fireworks display. Then, having only had two butterbeers, he had phoned his cousin Dudley and floo-called Draco Malfoy. All things considered, he had been social and he had coped. 

Now the newspaper had announced to the entire wizarding world the complete opposite of what was true. He had floo-called Molly as soon as Glacio had delivered the paper and demanded to know if one of them had leaked information. In his anger, he had flown off the handle and accused the entire Weasley family of betrayal. Molly had been quick to rush over and placate him before swooping the children up in order to give him ‘some space’. Hours had passed and the burning shame of his behaviour refused to subside. How could he have accused the Weasleys? He knew they would forgive him but he didn’t feel that he really deserved their forgiveness. 

He'd lost track of how much he had drank since the children had gone: he’d finished at least one bottle of firewhiskey and his vision was blurring considerably. In his heart of hearts, he knew the Weasleys would never have told Rita bloody Skeeter a single word. He also knew that Dudley would never have sought out a wizarding newspaper and sold them a story. At any rate, he didn’t think his cousin disliked him enough to conduct any elaborate revenge plans. 

That left one culprit: Draco sodding Malfoy. In his stupor it all seemed to click into place: that slimy ferret that he had let into his life had used him for a story. Harry had been stupid enough to trust him, he’d even invited him to Albus’s birthday party, and he had stabbed him in the back at the first opportunity he could get. There was only one thing for it, he had to confront the traitorous leech. 

Stumbling towards his kitchen table, he found a spare piece of parchment and began to write _exactly_ what he thought of Draco Malfoy. 

***

Draco sat on his bed, yawned and tried to muster up enough energy to get ready for bed. It had been a long day – Scorpius had been demanded his attention most of the morning and afternoon before being taken by Astoria for a week. He didn’t know what he was going to do without the little boy: mope, most probably. He was just about ready to admit defeat and begin undressing when a large, snowy owl tapped at his window.

He recognised the owl vaguely as belonging to Harry but couldn’t fathom what the man could possibly want at midnight. Draco frowned as he opened the window and accepted the letter from the bird: what if he’d been asleep? Didn’t Potter have any manners? A little voice in the back of his head wondered if Harry Potter had a more interesting life than he did and didn’t consider midnight as being that late of an hour. This did nothing to lift his sour mood.

The letter was written in an untidy scrawl, smeared in places and strange in its language. Even the spelling was bizarre – this didn’t look like any letter Harry had ever sent to him. Was this Harry? Had someone kidnapped the man and forced him to write this? The theory seemed farfetched but if the content of the letter was to be believed: Harry _hated_ him. Looking down at the parchment, he noticed a sizable stain in the bottom corner and lifted it to his nose: praying that it wasn’t the owl’s doing. Firewhiskey. The smell burnt his nostrils and all became clear. Harry Potter was a very, very, drunk wizard. 

Trying not to worry about whether the wards would give him access, Draco swore under his breath and marched into the fireplace at the foot his bed. For a few moments Draco was sure he was going to be catapulted backwards by a series of protective wards. However, Harry was either exceptionally lax with his security measures of he had, at some stage, altered the wards to give Draco passage. 

Gripping his wand tightly – he refused to take chances with an intoxicated Potter – he stepped out into, what he assumed, was Harry’s lounge. Obviously, the man opted for comfort over style, Draco mused, as he stared at the squishy, brown armchairs. He had known that Harry wasn’t particularly materialistic but, judging by this room, you would have thought he was living in a squat. Inwardly, he chastised himself for being a snob but he decided to make a note of when Harry’s birthday was for future reference. 

Turning to his right, he got his first glimpse of the man in question: slouched, asleep, across his dining table. Draco groaned at the sight and considered leaving the man to it. He was _not_ prepared for this level of drunk. Surely there was someone better equipped for taking care of a drunk Harry Potter than him? Where were Granger and Weasley when you needed then? 

“Harry?” He tried cautiously as he poked the man with his wand. 

Sighing at the lack of response, he decided there was nothing else for it and cast a gentle levitation charm on the sleepy wizard. Harry would owe him big time for this – didn’t the Chosen One know how to handle his drink? On their way up the stairs, Harry startled awake. The two men glared at each other in shock before Harry burst out laughing and declared that he was now ‘Peter Pan’. Draco wondered what the hell his friend was talking about as he proceeded in his Put Potter To Bed mission. 

Draco quietly praised himself for conducting such accurate levitation when the object in question was attempting to swim through the air. Plenty of training with a toddler had led him to this moment, he thought to himself as he lowered Harry onto his bed. The other wizard fell asleep again as soon as Draco removed the charm: long before Draco had the chance to say a word.

The letter had not been forgotten but as he watched the man, he couldn’t bring himself to wake him. Thus, Draco quietly said goodnight and returned to the fireplace.


	3. V: Vows

### V: Vows

#### Thursday 3rd January 2008

Hiding his face in the pillows, Harry Potter was currently attempting to work out how long one person could hide in their bedroom without human contact. It had been a week since he’d gotten himself so drunk that he’d alienated his entire circle of family and friends. He groaned at the thought and buried himself a little deeper into the duvet. What had he been _thinking_? He hadn’t been: that was the problem. 

He could barely remember what he’d said to people but the letters he had woken up to had given him a fairly good idea. Molly’s letter had been full of forgiveness and understanding: it was positively dripping with concern for his wellbeing alongside promises to look after the children for as long as he needed. It was nothing less than he expected from his adopted Mother, if he was honest. 

Draco’s howler was the true cause of his embarrassment. No, _humiliation_. Quite frankly, he never wanted to leave the house ever again. He was clearly going to have to give up his job and live a solitary life of self-pity. Even Glacio the owl was too ashamed to look at him. What bothered him the most was that Draco hadn’t really seemed all that angry with him. His howler hadn’t screamed like Harry had expected: the blonde’s voice was cold but there was definite concern in the words that were spoken. 

The owl had arrived the morning after _that night_ , carrying three items; the dreaded howler; a hangover potion; and an invitation to the birthday party of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Harry couldn’t help but think the man was literally sending him mixed messages. It had become obvious, very quickly, that he had accused Draco of all sorts of betrayals that, in the light of day, sounded ridiculous. In his anger he had forgotten that Rita Skeeter was a sodding Animagus that could have been stalking him. After all, he _had_ been lax with his Muffliato recently. Protecting yourself from rogue journalists wasn’t something a person gave much thought to when their wife was barely cold in the ground. 

He was disrupted from his pity party by a loud knocking on his bedroom door. Rolling over, he ignored it. Whoever it was would go away eventually. If he ignored it for long enough, perhaps people would never bother him again and he would become the stuff of legend. He could practically see the headlines now: _Saviour of the Wizarding World Mysteriously Vanishes_. 

“Harry James Potter,” The sharp voice of Hermione rang through the house. “Open this door!”

Harry was sure that if he didn’t grant her entry then she would simply blow the door down. Wanting to avoid shards of wood all over the house, he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled across the room to let her in. Hermione’s gaze quickly shifted from fury to worry as she took in the sight of her best friend: dark rings circled his eyes; stubble was quickly turning into a beard; and she was convinced he probably hadn’t dressed in over a week. “You look awful.” She said in a rush of breath. 

“Way to point out the obvious, ‘Mione.” 

“Sorry, Harry.” Hermione grimaced at her lack of care; she had spent too long with Ron. “I meant to ask why you weren’t dressed yet…” 

His blank expression only prompted Hermione to huff and barge past him in exasperation. Minutes passed by before Harry snapped back to reality and realised that his best friend was raiding through his wardrobe and throwing clothes onto the bed. She was a whirlwind of bushy, brown hair as she raced around the space – forcefully moving Harry out of her way as she went. 

“Em, ‘Mione…” He began carefully. “Not that I don’t like you visiting but, what are you doing?”

The woman came to an abrupt stop and spun around to face him. Harry did not like the look that was currently on her face: this was Hermione’s _determined_ look and he had always tried hard to avoid it being aimed at him. “We’re going out – it’s been planned for days.” Her tone left no room for argument. 

Nevertheless, Harry fully intended to argue his case: he was the Head of the Auror Office and he was not about to be pushed around by Hermione Granger. “Now hold on, Hermione – I knew nothing about this!” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her friend but Harry stood his ground. “Harry, we sent you an owl. We need to go shopping or your children will be turning up to Scorpius’s birthday party empty handed.” 

This had not been what Harry had expected to hear from Hermione. He was used to his best friends appearing, unannounced, and declaring that they were going off on some excursion. Very rarely was a shopping trip pre-planned: Harry didn’t particularly like shopping. “I never got an owl…” 

Stomping over to the bedside table, Hermione leafed her way through a pile of unopened mail. In any other moment, she would have reprimanded her friend for not keeping up with his correspondences but now she only worried that he really wasn’t coping. Had there been any truth in those articles? Were they not doing enough to support him? Finally, she found the letter she was looking for and sighed. “Harry, it’s right here.” 

Sitting on the bed, Harry tried to come up with something to say that would placate Hermione. They’d been friends for a very long time and he didn’t want her to worry about him. There was no good excuse for why he had been ignoring his mail: the children were at Molly’s and he hadn’t gone back to work. “I’m sorry.” 

Hermione pushed a bundle of clean clothes into his hands. “Don’t be. Nobody expects miracles Harry, it’s only been two months. Grief comes in stages you know, I’ve read about it.”

Inwardly, Harry wondered if there was anything Hermione _hadn’t_ read about as he began to dress himself: resigned to a day of shopping. 

***

#### Sunday 6th January 2008

Malfoy Manor was a hive of excitement in preparation for Scorpius’s birthday party. His actual birthday was two days away but since it was a Tuesday – and people had to work during the week – they had decided that Sunday was a better option. The youngest Malfoy was going to be two but this was his first, ever, birthday party, and his family were determined to make it a success. Invitations had been sent out; caterers had been brought in; cake designers had been found; children’s entertainers had been hired; and the Manor had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. 

Draco watched as a large, white, marquee was constructed on the lawn. The house elves were arranging for heating charms to be cast within the structure due to there still being snow on the ground but Draco was sure it would eventually make the perfect space for party games. He hoped his son would enjoy the attention. If Scorpius had fun, then all the arguments with Astoria would have been worth it. “She’ll be here soon, dragon.” His Mother’s voice chimed as she walked past him. 

_She_ was his ex-wife. Their relationship was currently frostier than the lawns outside. No doubt she would be bringing her lover with her, Draco thought to himself. As much as he’d wanted to send her packing, he couldn’t exclude her from Scorpius’s birthday plans: it wouldn’t have been fair on the toddler. Besides, it was important to be seen to be making an effort to co-parent. If he could survive having Voldemort in his house, he was sure he could manage one day in the company of his ex-wife. 

The problems started from the very beginning. Astoria, as expected, had brought Goyle along for the party which Draco felt was beyond distasteful. Regardless, he said nothing about it. She had remarked on the catering being rather ‘inelegant’. Draco reminded her that the food was for the children - most of whom had quite restricted palates – and then said nothing. Upon entering the parlour, Astoria had remarked to Narcissa that the decorations were _cute_ in the sort of way that really sounded as though she had meant _ugly_. Narcissa looked ready to hex the woman out the front door but Draco, ever the politician, continued to say nothing. It almost became a game in which Astoria would find cause for complaint and Draco would Be The Better Person by ignoring her entirely. 

In Draco’s opinion, the arrival of the guests couldn’t have come quick enough. Patience was something he had thankfully been blessed with but it was beginning to wear thin. When Hermione Granger stepped out of the Floo with a small child, quickly followed by Ron Weasley and a toddler, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He cringed slightly at the prospect of Weasley and Granger coming to his rescue but reminded himself that making friends was supposed to be a good thing. By the time he had made his first guests comfortable, the fireplace roared again to reveal a dishevelled Harry Potter holding two children while the third gripped his robes tightly. 

All things considered, Harry was looking much better than he had the last time Draco had seen him. Granted, the man was sober, awake, and not slouched over a table but that wasn’t the point. Searching his mind, Draco tried to remember if he had ever seen the other man in a set of dress robes. The Yule Ball was the only time he could remember and Draco tried not to think too much about his time at Hogwarts now that he had grown up. By the looks of it, Harry had also grown up a fair bit since then. Rich, maroon robes flowed across a muscular chest that was covered only by a silk, golden shirt: _such_ a Gryffindor, Draco groaned. 

The Potter children rushed out of the fireplace and straight towards their Aunt and Uncle who they had spied in the adjacent room. The exception, obviously, was Lily Potter who remained nestled in the crook of her Father’s arm. Stepping forward, Draco smiled warmly at his guest and admired the little girl. It struck him that the child was practically identical to her late-Mother and he couldn’t help but wonder if this caused Harry comfort or grief. “She’s very pretty.” He remarked politely. 

Harry surprised him with a light laugh and a cuff on the shoulder as he strode confidently into the Manor. It warmed Draco that his friend clearly felt comfortable: it hadn’t escaped his attention that Malfoy Manor would forever hold bad memories. At least Harry had already visited once before, he imagined it must be far worse for Hermione and Ron. However, if his guests were uncomfortable, they didn’t show it. 

Narcissa was in her element as she played hostess for the first time in years. Even Lucius made a brief appearance: if only to welcome the rest of the Greengrass family with whom he was determined to remain on good terms. By the time the rest of the guests had arrived – including a rabble of Draco’s distant, French relatives – the children were buzzing with excitement. 

The fun, unfortunately, did not last. Proceedings took a turn for the worst during a spirited game of ‘pin the tail on the hippogriff’. Most of the adults stood back and cheered on each child with the sort of enthusiasm that was only ever seen in Pantomimes. The exception was Goyle who only cheered for Scorpius and swore under his breath when the toddler pinned the tail to the hippogriff’s head. Draco tried to put a positive spin on the man’s distasteful behaviour by telling himself that Goyle must care a great deal for Scorpius. 

Then came the turn of an excited, enthusiastic, James Potter. The child could barely hold still long enough to be blindfolded and as he rushed forward, arm outstretched, it looked as though he may win the contest. That was, until he was shrouded in the blue light of a Protego cast by an angered Harry Potter. The room went very still. “What did you cast at my son?” Harry spoke, in a voice that was dangerously quiet. 

All eyes turned to a blushing Goyle. “It was a tiny Confundus!”

“He’s _four years old_!” Hermione gasped in complete outrage. 

“Exactly!” Goyle tried to defend his actions against a swarm of murderous looks. “He’s too old to be playing, it’s Scorp’s birthday, he has no chance against a kid twice his age.”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about taking part.” Harry shook his head in disbelief. 

“You _would_ say that, Gryffindor.” Astoria rolled her eyes dramatically. “Especially when it’s _your_ child winning.”

Draco, watching a frightened James Potter pull off his blindfold, finally snapped. “Goyle, get out of my fucking house.” 

He half expected the large man to argue or kick up a fuss but he simply grunted and marched out of the room in the direction of the fireplace. The stillness of the room was unsettling. Narcissa held in the reprimand for foul language that was on the tip of her tongue. At any rate, Astoria’s sudden screeching would have drowned her out. “How _dare_ you throw him out of my son’s birthday party! He was _my_ guest here!”

The woman stormed out of the room with Draco hot on her heels. “ _Your_ son?! Would that be the son you only bother to visit when it suits you?”

“You think you’re father of the year, Draco, but it’s a pity that you couldn’t find it in yourself to be a decent husband.” The words were dripping with venom. 

Leaning against the doorway, Draco surveyed his ex-wife with cool loathing. He hadn’t been a great husband but he wasn’t about to take the blame for their failed marriage. She had been the one to run off with another man – he would never have done that. “I didn’t break any of our vows, Astoria.” 

“I think you should calm down, there’s kids here.” Harry ventured, having noted that Scorpius was looking quite distressed. 

Astoria cast cold eyes upon him. “You might mean something out in the world, Harry Potter, but when it comes to my son, your opinion means nothing.” 

“You care so much for our son,” Draco spat in complete fury. “That you have systematically tainted the first birthday party we have ever thrown for him.”

“As if you’ve held this party for Scorpius’s sake!” Scoffed Astoria as she turned towards the fireplace. 

Draco looked more livid than Harry had ever seen him. “What do you mean by that?” The blonde demanded. 

“Don’t tell me it’s not because _he’s_ here.” Astoria gestured towards Harry. “You’d never miss an opportunity for good publicity.”

Outraged that he was being dragged into an argument that didn’t really have much to do with him, Harry glared fiercely. It seemed such a shame that what had been a great party was being ruined by one, selfish, human being. He would never have behaved this way if it was one of his own children and he was furious on Draco’s behalf. 

Draco snarled. “I think the only person here who cares for publicity is _you_ , Astoria. After all, there are no reporters or photographers here. Today is about Scorpius.” 

Scanning the room behind Draco for potential allies, Astoria found herself quite alone. With a dignified flounce, she stepped into the fireplace and was gone within moments. 

***

#### Tuesday 8th January 2008

Muggle London was packed tight with post-Christmas shoppers hoping to find the perfect item in the January sales. Even the bitter cold failed to deter them from their aim. While many people would have despised the barging crowds, Harry and Ron saw it as the perfect opportunity to blend in. Ron had grown quite adept at wearing muggle clothing but even after many years with Hermione, he still hadn’t mastered colour co-ordination. 

Making themselves comfortable in the corner of a pub, the two friends sipped at their drinks in companionable silence. Ron flicked through the menu – the man was always hungry – but Harry contented himself with people-watching. Since getting married, the two men rarely spent time together alone; Hermione, or Ginny, had nearly always tagged along. “Do you think you’ll ever come back to the aurors, Ron?” 

“Nah, mate.” The red-head seemed confused by the question. “You thinking of packing it in?”

For reasons he wasn’t entirely sure of, the question made Harry nervous. “I don’t think so.” 

Ron looked up from the menu and regarded his best mate. Even though he thought of Harry as a brother, there were still moments when he couldn’t quite work out what went on in the other man’s head. Life choices were generally easy for Ron to make: he wanted children, so they had children; he’d had enough of fighting bad guys, so he quit the aurors; he wanted to support his brother, so he joined the joke shop. Harry didn’t work this way and this often made Ron uneasy. “It’s been a couple of months since Ginny.” 

“I know.” Harry nodded faintly. 

Sighing, Ron realised he was going to have to have the sort of conversation that he normally left for Hermione. “She was my sister, I loved her too, but we’ve all got to keep going. I’m not saying jump back into work, remarry and have another six kids but….” 

Harry looked up as his friend trailed off. “How can you even talk about remarrying?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ron waved off the remark as though it was an irritating fly. “I’m just saying that time is going to keep going. There is no-one that is going to say that you need to be fine after only two months but hiding yourself away isn’t doing you, or the kids, any good.” 

“You don’t think I look after my kids, Ron, is that it?!” Harry’s temper surged.

“Don’t be stupid, Harry, you’re putting words in my mouth now.” 

“So now I’m _stupid_?” 

Flailing, Ron ran a hand through his ginger hair. This was exactly why he left these sorts of conversations to Hermione: he never said the right thing. He didn’t know when his friend had become so sensitive but he was sure that this was just another sign that Harry was struggling. He knew that anger was a big part of coming to terms with a loss – Hermione had read so many books on the topic that he felt like an expert. 

“I’m sorry,” Ron said with a look so genuine that Harry visibly calmed down. “You’re doing great with the kids. I don’t know how you’re managing it all. I can barely handle Hugo for a day when Hermione goes out. I can’t imagine doing it on my own 24/7.”

Blushing, Harry realised that he hadn’t enquired over his friends’ new addition in a very long time. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, he had just been too wrapped up in his own life and his own new baby to give much thought to anyone else’s. Having grown up lonely, Harry had always sworn to himself that his children would be exceptionally close to their cousins. Lily and Hugo were destined to be best friends but that wasn’t going to happen if Harry never made an effort. 

“Well, you know, being a single parent is a tough gig.” 

Ron nodded sagely. “Just keep in mind that you’ve got support, mate.” 

As soon as a waitress came anywhere near the table, Ron pounced like a tiger. Suppressing a laugh, Harry shook his head while his friend ordered enough food to feed a small family. He didn’t know where Ron put it all – he’d never had an appetite that big. Harry contented himself with fish and chips and a fresh drinks order; though he had spotted a dessert menu that might be promising. 

“You know who is lacking support? Draco.” 

“I think I’ll always find it a bit weird that you’ve stopped calling him Malfoy.” Ron’s tone was light-hearted but Harry hadn’t missed the unspoken question. 

“It’s a change,” Harry mildly agreed. “But it’s been ages since we were at school. We did stupid things too.” 

“We weren’t bloody Death Eaters though, Harry!” Ron scoffed as he took his first bite of the pie that had been placed in front of him. 

Harry shrugged: not wanting to get into another argument. “No but I don’t know what I’d have done in his shoes. Anyway, you didn’t seem so bothered at Scorpius’s birthday party.” 

“I’ll give you that,” Ron chewed slowly as though he was biding his time. “He’s doing his best with his kid. I’d probably have gone to extreme measures too, if my family had been at risk. I don’t envy him; having to deal with that ex-wife of his.” 

Flashbacks of a screaming Astoria Greengrass poured into Harry’s mind. Awkward didn’t cover it. After the witch had departed, the festivities had felt very forced. The youngest Malfoy only perked up when he was offered a very large slice of birthday cake. It bothered Harry on a personal level that the child’s birthday had been ruined; it brought back memories of his own disappointing birthdays. 

“She’s a self-centred bitch from what I could gather.” The memory left a bad taste in Harry’s mouth. 

“Shame for Malfoy, I think,” Ron agreed with Harry’s summation. “It looked like he’d put a lot of work in. You couldn’t really blame him for losing it with her. It’s weird when you see a divorced couple like that; makes you wonder how they ever got married in the first place.” 

It felt like Ron had just read Harry’s mind. Ever since the party, Harry had wondered how Draco had ended up with someone like Astoria. The Draco that Harry had gotten to know recently was nothing like the boy he’d known in his youth. Yet Astoria seemed to represent that arrogant, obnoxious, self-centred child that Draco had been in the past. Perhaps they had fallen in love before Draco matured, Harry mused, because he couldn’t see how the Draco he knew now could have managed it. The woman was quite difficult to tolerate. 

***

#### Saturday 12th January 2008

Standing at the end of Privet Drive, Harry felt as though time had stopped; it seemed only the cars had succumbed to the passage of time. Hedges remained neatly trimmed; gardens were well kept though frosty; and curtains twitched at his presence. It had been a long time since he’d bothered to visit Little Whinging. He hadn’t been sure, when he had last left Number 4, if he would _ever_ return – or even, if his relatives would return to the house they’d been forced to leave. 

When Dudley had written to him, requesting his company, he had come very close to refusing. He was sure that his cousin could handle a confrontation with his parents without his help. It was only memories of how difficult his own childhood had been under their reign that forced him into agreeing to come. Luke Dursley was practically a stranger to Harry, but if he could ensure that the child was never rejected for his magic then it would all be worth it. Time had passed and Harry wasn’t going to be bullied by his relatives now. 

Dudley met him at the corner of the street and they walked in silence to the door of their childhood home. Harry noted that nothing at all had changed – the house was exactly as he had remembered. Even the doorbell rang in a jarringly familiar way. Counting to ten, Harry wasn’t surprised as his Aunt Petunia swung the door open punctually. Her eyes flickered from Dudley to Harry and back so quickly that Harry wasn’t sure she’d really looked. 

“Come in.” She said sharply as she scanned the street – wondering if the neighbours were looking. 

Harry only managed one fleeting look at the cupboard under the stairs before he was gently nudged into the sitting room by his cousin. Dudley must have noticed where Harry had been looking because a comforting smile briefly swept across his features. All at once, Harry felt completely at ease despite his surroundings. The house may not have changed, his Aunt and uncle may not have changed, but Dudley had and that was all Harry needed. 

Sitting on the dated, pink sofa, Harry stayed quiet while Dudley made small talk with his Father. Vernon Dursley, it seemed, was carefully ignoring Harry’s presence: probably in the hope that if he didn’t acknowledge his nephew then he may just disappear. His Aunt Petunia had run off to make tea and, most likely, compose herself. When she returned to the room, her face was set in a polite smile which Harry recognised as her ‘Visitors’ look. This seemed quite peculiar, until he realised that his Aunt intended to behave as though he was a very distant relative; or worse, a stranger. 

“Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, I’ve only come because Dudley asked me to.” Harry began confidently.

The oldest Dursleys seemed frozen in shock that Harry had spoken. Vernon looked as though Harry had simply been conjured from thin air in front of him. At least they weren’t screaming and threatening to phone the police, Harry thought. Every cloud had its silver lining, after all. 

“I thought we were well shot of you, boy.” Growled Vernon from behind a rather dainty, china cup. 

“And what do you mean our Dudley _asked_ you to?” Petunia’s voice was strangely threatening. 

Talking candidly to his relatives was something Harry had never managed to do while he was growing up and he wasn’t foolish enough to think that it was going to go well now. Thankfully, Dudley came to his rescue. “It’s true, Mum. I asked him to come along so we could have a conversation together.”

Petunia smiled with devotion at her only child. “That is so sweet of you, Dudders. You’re always so thoughtful darling but why on earth would you have invited him _here_?” 

Taking a deep breath and carefully avoiding the eyes of his Mother, Dudley decided to tackle the issue head on. “Well, Mum, it’s about Luke-“

“My _Lukey_!” Petunia shrieked in interruption. 

“Calm down, Mum, he’s fine!” Dudley looked more than a little irritated by his Mother’s melodrama. “I’ve brought Harry here because… well, we’ve been keeping an eye on it and, well…. Luke’s like Harry.” 

“What do you mean _like_ him?” Vernon snarled as the colour drained from his face. 

“Magical.” Harry supplied before any other words could be thrown into the mix. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Petunia tutted as though Harry had sworn. 

“It’s _you_!” Vernon Dursley’s temper reared its ugly head. “I always said you’d be no good, boy. Now you’ve went and infected our grandson with your…. your… nonsense.” 

To Harry’s surprise, Dudley was on his feet in a heartbeat, bearing down on his Father with a face full of fury. “Don’t you _dare_ speak about Harry or Luke like that, do you hear me?”

“Oh Dudley, of course not, he didn’t mean it darling, sit down.” Petunia whimpered as she gently tugged on her son’s arm until he sat back down on the sofa. “What makes you think that Luke’s mag-different?” 

“There’s been a couple of incidents-“ Dudley was cut off.

Vernon looked as though he’d smelled something unpleasant. “That’s how it started with _him_ , Dudley. _Weird things_ happened around him. You need to clamp down on it before it goes too far.” 

“It’s not controllable,” Harry was beginning to get irritated. “Children can’t easily control their magic, it’s tied in with their emotions. That’s why there are wizarding schools.” 

“ _Schools_ ,” Vernon scoffed. “I’m surprised that place is still standing. How it passes inspections, I’ll never know.” 

Harry was slightly confused by this talk of inspections but shrugged it off: he rarely spent time in the muggle world and it didn’t really impact on his life any more. Whether Vernon Dursley liked it or not, Harry thought, his grandson would end up attending Hogwarts: not Smeltings. A huge part of him wished to remind his Uncle that he didn’t have a clue what he was talking about but for Luke’s sake, he said nothing. 

“How do you think we’re going to be able to teach him, Dad, if he doesn’t go to Hogwarts?” Dudley’s confidence quietly impressed Harry. 

“Dudley, there are so many schools out there – you’re in a great area for them.” It was clear that Petunia was ignoring the real issue.

Dudley was getting more exasperated by the second. “Laura and I are going to send Luke to Hogwarts when he’s old enough and that’s where he’s going to learn how to control his magic, that’s what’s best for him.”

“Laura?!” Vernon mocked. “She doesn’t have the foggiest idea what she’s talking about!”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Dudley growled a warning. 

“Tell me this then boy,” Vernon smirked viciously. “Do you think he’ll learn anything _useful_ at that place? Eh? Maths perhaps?” 

“There’s Arithmancy?” Harry offered conversationally.

Vernon continued with his rant, oblivious to Harry’s suggestion. “History??”

“There’s History of Magic?” Harry interjected again but was ignored.

“And if he wants to be a Doctor, how do you think he’ll manage that with a GCSE in pulling rabbits out of hats?” 

“There’s a great Healer programme at St-“

“ _ **Will you shut up?!**_ ” Vernon turned to Harry dangerously. 

Before Harry could get another word in, Dudley was back on his feet and pulling Harry up by the shoulder. Taking the hint, Harry made his way to the doorway and stopped to wait on his cousin. The family reunion had not gone well and it was very clear that the Dursleys were as narrow-minded as ever. It bothered Harry that they were no further towards accepting magic than they had been when Harry was a baby. 

“Listen to me,” Dudley said with a conviction that Harry had never heard before in the man’s voice. “Luke is my son and no matter what, I’ll not have him treated badly. You can either accept him as he is or not at all. The way you treated Harry growing up was awful and I won’t allow you around Luke if I think you’re going to behave that way.” 

Leaving the Dursleys’ protests behind, Harry and Dudley swiftly left the house. Even at the end of the street, they could still hear Vernon roaring about how he had taken Harry in, raised him, fed, and clothed him. At the back of Harry’s mind, he thought of how little his relatives had really done for him. “That went well.” Dudley smiled.

The two cousins erupted into laughter as they left Little Whinging behind.

#### Wednesday 30th January 2008

Taking a long drag from his butterbeer, Draco watched the rain pour down like wet bullets. Coming to Godric’s Hollow had been an impulsive decision. It was a wizarding village that he didn’t particularly like visiting: too many people he knew had set up home here. However, the tiny community was also home to Draco’s lawyer. 

After the disaster that had been Scorpius’s party, he had decided that casual co-parenting was no longer an option and that a more formal arrangement was required. He’d been optimistic during divorce proceedings and, though he was loath to admit it, slightly naïve. Everyone had assured him that he was doing the right thing by being flexible with Astoria but now he saw that his wife’s behaviour was doing more harm than good. Simply, he’d had enough of the woman flitting in and out of their son’s life with little regard for the toddler’s feelings. 

When Draco had married Astoria, he hadn’t been sure if they would ever have children. In the process of reviewing his political opinions, he had come to the realisation that he was happy to let the Malfoy name die with him. Astoria had been the one to push for a baby: even when they found out that it would impact badly on her health. She had been adamant that she wanted to have a child: a symbol of their love and marriage. Sighing, Draco realised that not even Scorpius could have saved their marriage. 

“Draco!” A messy haired man broke into his thoughts, unexpectedly. 

The blond had hoped to avoid bumping into people but if that person was Harry, he realised he didn’t mind so much. When did that happen? Draco mused that this must be another one of the after effects of making real friends. “Harry, take a seat.” He indicated to the empty chair. 

“I never knew you were coming,” Harry wrinkled his nose up. “I’d have invited you over.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Draco said to appease the other man. “I just had some business to take care of.” 

“Business?” Harry asked as he pulled off his scarf. 

Draco wanted to tell the Gryffindor to stop prying but suppressed his irritation. It wasn’t Harry he had the problem with: it was Astoria. Closing himself off would only get him so far and shutting out one of his only friends was probably impolite. 

“I had an appointment with my lawyer.” He tried to make it sound casual.

Harry was not so easily deceived but decided that if the blond didn’t want to share, he wouldn’t force him. “Today would have been my Mother’s birthday.”

This was not what Draco had been expected to hear and he wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.” 

Harry shrugged. “Don’t be. When I was young I didn’t really know anything about my parents. It’s easier to visit their graves now that we live nearby.”

“You’re a very dutiful son; it’s pouring down.” Draco nodded his head slightly towards the window as though Harry hadn’t just been outside. “How could you not know about your parents?”

It quickly became apparent to Draco that Harry was uncomfortable with the question. A part of him wanted to tell his friend that it didn’t matter but his curiosity was too great. After all, how could Harry Potter of all people, not know about his parents? Draco had practically memorised his own family tree by the time he was five. Ignorance was not an option in a pure-blood family. 

“When my parents died I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle: they’re muggles.” Harry sighed. “They didn’t really understand magic and they thought it was abnormal. I learned later that my Aunt Petunia had been very jealous of my Mum for getting to go to Hogwarts while she was left behind. It wasn’t spoken about.” 

Smoothing his features to conceal the shock, Draco tried to process this information. He’d grown up knowing all about Harry Potter but it seemed that the man himself had grown up without the slightest clue. It made the situation all the more tragic. He wondered how many people knew about the wizard’s past. 

“Do you keep in touch with your family?” Draco wondered aloud.

Harry seemed to think about this for a moment. “I talk to Dudley, my cousin. We’re still working through things and getting to know each other again. I saw my Aunt and Uncle recently but it wasn’t a great meeting. We’ll never see eye to eye, I don’t think.” 

Nodding, Draco decided to take a leap of faith. “I saw my lawyer today about creating a custody arrangement for Scorpius. The current situation isn’t working between Astoria and I.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry seemed uncomfortable: Draco’s admission hadn’t been expected. “I can’t say I’m surprised after the birthday party though.”

“I thought the fluidity was the adult thing to do. I never wanted Scorpius to feel divided and I wasn’t ready to cut her off.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Parenting on your own is hard. I guess it must have been comforting to be able to hand over to Astoria.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” Draco admitted. “She’ll still be an important part of Scorp’s life. It’s only that… I realise now that the arrangement needs to be to _his_ benefit and not to mine.” 

“Can’t it be both?” 

Draco gave Harry his best Slytherin smirk. “I’m sure it can be, with a little work.”


	4. O: Obligations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies that this chapter has taken SO LONG to be finished. I should let you all know that this hasn't been due to laziness: we're expecting our first baby badger in a matter of weeks and baby brain does NOTHING for my writing. I've proof-read this chapter numerous times but again, I apologise if I've missed something. This chapter signifies a passing of time in the overall story - both Harry and Draco are having to come to terms with aspects of their normal life and find that 'normality' that works for each of them. From here, things will progress a bit more quickly, I have firm plans for the second half of this work and hope to have it completed before baby arrives in the next month or so.

### O: Obligations

#### Wednesday 6th February 2008

The four key players sat around a large, rustic, wooden table in a private room to the back of The Leaky Cauldron. Mutual ground had been requested by both parties and, with perfect access to both Muggle and Wizarding London, the pub seemed the best location. Tea had been brought in and poured for each guest and a roaring fire created a comfortable atmosphere despite the natural hostilities. 

Mid-week meetings were a drag for any lawyer but when your client was Draco Malfoy, there was always an air of the unexpected. Minty Pepin had privately been looking forward to this appointment – more so than he usually did. The younger Malfoy was far more agreeable than his Father had been and was almost pleasant to work with. If he had his way, this case would be out of the way by lunch time. He didn’t think either party wished to linger over the issue: custody battles were so often fraught and long-winded. 

When it came to matters of love and war, Draco only wanted the best tools at his disposal. Some had suggested that he had only kept Minty as his lawyer out of respect for his Father. If that is what they wished to believe then he was happy for them to think so. In reality, Draco trusted Minty Pepin with his life, and Scorpius _was_ his life. True, the man could use some tips on how to dress himself and wasn’t known for his friendly demeanour but he was a fantastically clever lawyer. 

It was with this knowledge that Astoria Greengrass found herself worrying over how proceedings might go. She had not elected to use her family’s lawyer but instead, had spent many days finding the right choice for _her_. Wilva Sudus not only had a glowing reputation but the woman conducted herself with efficiency. Astoria wanted this meeting to be quick and purposeful: she was ready to say this final farewell to her ex-husband. 

“Right then,” Wilva began, keen to take control of proceedings. “We all know why we’re here and I think it best if we divide conversations in two: what will happen before Scorpius turns eleven and what will happen once he turns eleven and begins school.”

Not wanting to be outdone, Minty licked his lips and sat forward in his chair. “Very well Wilva but I think the _most important_ part of our conversations today should be what is in the _best interests_ for Scorpius, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“I should think so.” Wilva blinked as though the man had said something that was all too obvious. 

“I think it best if Scorpius resides with me.” Astoria chimed in: she fully intended to get as much as she possibly could.

Draco scoffed, barely hiding a sneer of contempt. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t reside with you _now_ after all.” 

“Ok, Ok.” Wilva smiled as though she were intervening between toddlers. “Let us try to put personal feelings aside and think of Scorpius. Where is the best place for him to live?” 

“Well let me be quite plain about it,” Minty was suddenly very business-like. “The child has been residing with his Father for months, in the same home that he was born. Ms Greengrass left the family home _without_ her son and has not sought alternate living arrangements before now: we are all aware that these proceedings are brought about by Mr Malfoy.”

“Consistency and stability are certainly key factors in these discussions Mr Pepin.” Wilva conceded: her client had made it very clear that residency was not really her desire. 

“Exactly,” Minty ploughed on with an air of victory: his client would accept nothing short of residency. “And in addition, the child’s current home will provide plenty of space for him to grow: he has his own bedroom and vast outdoor space to run around in.” 

“My client is in the process of creating a space for the child within her new premises.” Wilva quickly jumped in. 

Minty smirked. “But she hasn’t already done so?”

The lawyers shared challenging glares. “No.” Wilva was forced to admit. 

“Then the child should reside, fully, with Mr Malfoy.” Minty looked like the cat that had gotten the cream.

Wilva, tutting, was not quite prepared to admit defeat. “Until such times as Ms Greengrass is able to provide space for Scorpius: then we would like to request access each weekend.” 

“Absolutely not.” Draco was outraged. “I will _not_ forfeit every weekend with my son.”

“Surely,” Pepin’s voice was sickly sweet. “You can understand my client’s displeasure with losing so much bonding time with his young son. Especially when, in a few short years, his week days will be taken up with school work and tutoring.” 

The look on Astoria’s face signified that she hadn’t thought this would be a problem: she had thought her ex-husband would be overjoyed at getting his weekends back. “Then every alternate weekend, surely.” 

“And one night through the week.” Wilva shot in before her client gave up more than was necessary.

Minty shared a look with Draco. “One night through the week on the weeks in which Ms Greengrass will not have Scorpius at the weekend. That way the child will still see his Mother each week.”

Astoria gave a stiff nod to her lawyer and the agreement was copied onto a long sheet of parchment. Timetables would be created by the secretaries of the lawyers in the coming week so there would be no room for argument. Draco was caught between displeasure at having to share his son and relief that Scorpius would maintain more regular contact with his Mother. 

“Right, now that we have that arrangement in place, I think we should move on to holidays. We have Easter, Halloween, Christmas, New Year and Scorpius’s birthday.” Wilva smiled neatly.

“We could come together for holidays.” Astoria suggested timidly.

Draco looked disgusted. “Yes, that went _so well_ when we tried it.”

“Well, if you hadn’t made such a show of throwing Greg out!” Astoria flushed in anger. 

“He _hexed a child_ ,” Draco sneered in disbelief. “And on that note, I don’t want my son anywhere near him.”

Astoria rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so childish, Draco. Greg and I are very serious: what if we get married?!”

Minty decided this would be a good time to wade in: otherwise, they’d be here for a week. “Ms Greengrass I’m sure you can understand Mr Malfoy’s reservations. With the circumstances that led to your and Mr Goyle’s relationship-“

“That’s irrelevant!” Astoria interjected.

Minty continued on regardless of the interruption. “And with his recent behaviour-“

“He loves Scorpius!”

“It’s not ideal at this time. Your relationship is fairly new and if the accusation regarding the hexing of a child is accurate then we may have cause for concern.” 

“Ok this is obviously a sticking point,” Wilva remained cheerful. “I think we need to be realistic. At some stage Mr Malfoy and Ms Greengrass are going to wish to include other adults into this child’s life. In the interests of the child’s stability, I am going to suggest that Mr Goyle remain out of the picture for the next year. In the event that the relationship is maintained, then arrangements can be made to introduce him as a consistent figure.” 

Astoria glared daggers at her lawyer – she had hoped that Greg would be a permanent feature of Scorpius’s life. They’d discussed the possibility of marriage but that would have to wait if her son wouldn’t be able to attend. Draco looked equally unimpressed but knew that if he were to complain now, he would come across as the unreasonable party. Besides, it was true that one day he may wish to bring someone else into his son’s life. 

“Back on to holidays,” Minty shuffled some parchment in front of him. “We’re willing to concede Easter and Halloween in favour of Christmas and the child’s birthday.”

“Absolutely not,” Wilva looked personally offended. “You cannot trade lesser holidays!”

“What would you have us do then? We’re not giving up the bigger holidays.” Minty growled across the table. 

“My suggestion would be to split the holidays. My Malfoy could, perhaps, take Scorpius on Christmas Eve through to the early evening of Christmas Day where he would then spend the remainder of the evening and Boxing Day with Ms Greengrass. Similar arrangements could be concocted for the other holidays and alternated each year.”

Minty would never say so aloud but he was quietly impressed with the other lawyer. Neither Draco nor Astoria looked pleased at having to share their son but they both conceded that this was the nature of divorce. With grudging acceptance, the agreement was added to the parchment and signed by both parties. 

Another hour was spent arguing over minor details that would ensure absolute consistency for Scorpius and finalising a plan for the future. Every possible dispute that could have cropped up was hashed out in the presence of the two lawyers. Draco felt that it had been a cathartic experience even if he had been forced to compromise in places. He knew that the time he was giving up with Scorpius would be relatively small and he tried not to think too much over why Astoria hadn’t fought for more. 

By the end of the meeting, Draco felt that his marriage was truly over. The divorce had been finalised weeks ago but it was only now that they had made arrangements for Scorpius, that he felt freedom.

#### Wednesday 6th February 2008 continued

Every year Arthur Weasley was forced to celebrate his birthday and every year absence tainted it. This year was no different except, perhaps, that the absence was more noticeable. It didn’t seem to matter how many grandchildren ran across the kitchen, or slid down the bannisters, or screamed in delight. Two of his children were no longer with him. 

Red and orange bunting was strewn across the dining room while the numbers ‘58’ appeared in silver every thirty seconds. Matching balloons were dotted around the house with ‘58’ exploding, much like a firework, within the plastic bubble. The Burrow was as festive as any house may be when celebrating a family birthday. Still, Arthur Weasley grumbled that he wasn’t much in the mood for a party. 

Molly Weasley barely managed to contain her frustration. “Arthur, Ginny wouldn’t have wanted you to go on like this.”

“It’s been three months since we buried our child, Molly!” Arthur snapped rather uncharacteristically for a man who was otherwise good natured. 

“And you think I’ve forgotten, do you?” Arthur visibly paled under his wife’s glare. “She was my daughter too, Arthur Weasley. It’s not all about us, it’s about what she’s left behind: those children, without a Mother! And _Harry_ , after all he’s lost.” 

Having been married for a very long time, Arthur knew when he had pushed his wife too far. “Ok love, I’m sorry. You notice it more on days like this, you know?”

Molly did, of course, know how her husband was feeling: Ginny was not the first child they had had to mourn. Now they would have two sets of anniversaries to contend with each year. Ginny had been her only daughter: her _deeply_ wanted, only daughter. It struck her that Ginny had been gifted a little girl on the same day that her own had been robbed from her. For Molly, it felt as if she could have only one of them and it had been decided for her, that she was to have Lily. 

As though having read her mind, the fireplace roared into life and out stepped her adopted son, Harry, and his three children. It warmed Molly’s heart to see her new granddaughter flailing around in the tight grip of her Father. No longer a tiny baby, Lily Potter was finally coming into her own and learning how to move her arms and legs. She had also taken to tightly gripping the hair of anyone who was not careful enough to occupy her hands with toys. 

The two young boys threw themselves into the arms of their grandmother who made a show of filling their pockets with sweets. Harry watched the scene with fondness: this loving family was all that he had ever wished for as a child and he was glad that his children were growing up surrounded by love. His happy musings were cut short as Molly pulled him into a tight hug and took hold of Lily. 

“Harry, dear,” The Weasley matriarch beamed. “You’re looking tired. Have you been eating?” 

Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Harry smiled at his adopted mother. “Well, I do have a baby, and I’ve heard they can have quite a negative effect on your sleeping patterns.” 

“You know we’ll have her any time, dear. Come in, sit down, help yourself to some of those pastries.” Molly ushered him into a seat at the dining table next to his friends.

Ron nodded a greeting to Harry – his mouth crammed full of food – while Hermione kissed his cheek and loaded a plate for the messy-haired man beside her. To Harry it felt as though time had stood still and they were back at Hogwarts, eating lunch together. He was pleased to note that Molly had made treacle tart, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, peppermint pastries and a massive trifle. 

“Mum’s got a whole buffet planned for when everyone gets here.” Ron said while he refilled his plate.

“And you’ll have no room for it at this rate.” Hermione frowned at the mountain of food. 

Ron laughed lightly at his wife. “Don’t be silly, ‘Mione.”

“Harry!” Hermione perked up, startling her friend. “I’ve just remembered, about this party on Saturday. Do you really think we ought to go?”

Harry took his time chewing over a piece of treacle tart. “If you’re worried about my Aunt and Uncle, I don’t really know. Dudley’s invited you so I guess he wants you there but if you’re not comfortable I’m sure he’d understand.”

“So they’ll be there, then?” Ron gesticulated with a spoon full of trifle, getting it on his trousers. 

“Don’t know. Dudley said he’s not sure they’ll show up. He’s not heard much from them.”

“It must be awfully hard for them to accept Luke.” Hermione grimaced. 

Ron looked horrified. “Hermione, are you _mental_?! They kept Harry in a cupboard! They put bars on his window! I don’t think they’re bothering to _accept_ anyone!”

“I think I’m with Ron on this one, ‘Mione.” Harry considered as he nibbled on another piece of tart. “They’ve had years to come to terms with it; my Aunt Petunia has known for most of her life about magic.” 

“Yes, but they’ve probably thought that it doesn’t really affect _them_. They hardly viewed you as family, Harry.” Hermione winced at her own words. “I mean, they saw you as a distant relative…. Luke is their own grandchild.” 

The conversation was abruptly cut short by the booming tones of the Minister for Magic as he launched himself out of the Floo. All thoughts of the Dursleys flew out of Harry’s mind as he considered how to approach his boss. It wasn’t that he’d been avoiding the man – and he certainly hadn’t been pressured for a meeting – but he felt guilty all the same. Since the war ended, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been both a friend and a mentor. 

Deciding to face the music, Harry got up from his seat and made his way towards the man in question. Kingsley’s robes flowed around him like a cloud of purple mist embellished with slight hints of gold and silver. Harry was pulled into an embrace before he even had time to register the movement – meanwhile, Molly Weasley gently nudged the pair into an empty sitting room. 

“You don’t look pleased to see me, Harry.” Kingsley beamed as though he had just delivered a magnificent joke. 

Slumping into a chair, Harry sighed. “It’s not you.”

“It’s work, yes?” Kingsley dove in as he positioned himself on the sofa opposite Harry. 

“I don’t know what to say.” The younger man groaned miserably.

Kingsley nodded with wisdom that could have rivalled Dumbledore. “Then let me do the talking. It has been three months and three days since the passing of Ginny. I’m sure, for you, it still feels very raw. It is not my intention to rush you, Harry, but I do wonder if coming back to work would help you to regain some normality.” 

“It’s not… _raw_ now.” Harry pondered mostly to himself. “It’s like a dream that happened a very long time ago. If you think I’m in need of a distraction, then I can assure you that Lily already fills that role.” 

“I’m sure she does!” Kingsley’s smile remained unchanged. “If you’re not ready then you’re not ready. We can afford to wait a while longer.”

Harry barely seemed to register the other man’s words. “What would I do with the kids?! We always had a schedule!” 

“You know there is a service provided at the Ministry,” Kingsley spoke with great care. “Though I’m sure you already know that.” 

Hazy memories of discussions with Ginny over nurseries and childminders entered into Harry’s mind. His wife had never been keen: why pay for a service that Mrs Weasley was offering for free? Why hand their children to near strangers when they could be with family? On his own, Harry had no real objections to using the nursery that the Ministry now provided but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty. It wasn’t what Ginny would have wanted. 

“I’m sure Molly would take the children a couple of extra hours each week…” Harry chewed his lip as he thought it over. 

Kingsley’s smile became gentler as though he could read the younger man’s thoughts. “Whatever works for you, Harry. We want to support you. I’d personally love to have you back at work! However, it’s about how _you_ feel right now.”

“I can’t just walk back in tomorrow morning even if I wanted to, Kingsley. There’s all those evaluations to do!” 

“Yes…. I think you can understand given the nature of your position, Harry, that we need to check you’re in the best health. Physically _and_ mentally.” Kingsley tried to speak delicately but he knew the words would sting. 

“I won’t pass the evaluation, Kingsley.” A dejected Harry struggled to admit. 

“Then this conversation is moot!” The older man was suddenly beaming his trademark smile. “You’re not ready and when you _are_ ready you’ll know! As much as I want you back, I also want you at your best and we’re not going to get there by rushing things. I’ve spoken to quite a few people and we can offer you a year off if you need it.” 

“A YEAR?!” Harry stared open-mouthed. “One minute ago you’re talking like I need to go back to work tomorrow and now you’re saying let’s wait a year?” 

The booming laugh of Kingsley Shacklebolt could be heard throughout The Burrow. “A year is a good length of time: it gets you past all those ‘firsts’. Besides, you’ve got three children who no doubt need plenty of extra time with their Dad. Maybe find a hobby! Now, do excuse me Harry but I must see the birthday boy!” 

Harry watched as the whirlwind of purple flounced out of the room, leaving him with his thoughts. It was true that the children needed him right now. Since Ginny had passed he had mostly been on autopilot when it came to dealing with his children: Molly was his saving grace. He was lucky that the children were so fond of their grandparents. He loved his children, but they were hard work.

#### Saturday February 9th 2008

At 27 years old, Draco Malfoy was yet to find acceptable ways of keeping himself amused. It seemed as though he had read every book in the Malfoy library, played far too many games of gobstones for one man and read the newspaper at least three times. Normally his weekends were taken up with the ball of blonde, bouncing energy that was his son. However, this weekend was his and Astoria’s first attempt at shared custody and so Scorpius had been collected the night before and wasn’t due to return until Sunday evening. 

In his younger years he might have enjoyed having a weekend with no responsibilities – he might even have drunk himself into oblivion. Now, all he wanted was for his son to be at home so that they could go for ice cream or chase the peacocks. Deciding that moping wasn’t very fitting for a Malfoy, Draco decided to pull himself together.

_Dear Harry,_  
Scorpius is with his Mother and I’ve found myself at a bit of a loss. Do you fancy lunch?  
Draco. 

The eagle owl awaiting the letter gave Draco the same pitying look that his Mother had given him only hours before. It seemed that no-one had sympathy for his boredom and this only irritated Draco further. He wondered how it had come to this: that his only real friend seemed to be his childhood nemesis. It hadn’t always been this way: he used to see Pansy and Blaise multiple times a week before his marriage had become such a struggle. Now he was lucky to get a weekly floo call from Pansy, and Blaise only propositioned him once a month for drinks. 

Therefore, when the fireplace roared into life unexpectedly, Draco had a hard time hiding his shock. Within the flames sat a familiar shock of black hair that could only belong to the one person Draco had been thinking about. 

“You’ll never believe the trouble you caused with that owl.” The face grinned mischievously.

“Christ, did that ruddy thing bite one of your children?” Draco visibly grimaced. “I can’t seem to tame it for the life of me.”

Confusion could be traced all over Harry’s face as he studied the blonde. “The owl? No! Though if you’ve got a vicious bird you should really warn people.”

“Your thing isn’t much better!” Draco snarled with mild irritation.

“Glacio?” Harry chuckled. “He’s just got a frosty personality!”

“That is a terrible joke.” 

The blonde’s look of disdain only made Harry laugh harder. “Lighten up, Draco. I was talking about your owl arriving in the middle of Dudley’s son’s birthday party. You remember my cousin Dudley?”

“He’s the one with the magical child?”

“That’s the one!” Harry beamed from the fireplace. 

“So what was the problem with the owl?” 

At this, Harry’s laughter returned in force and several minutes passed before Draco managed to obtain an answer to his question. “My Aunt and Uncle were there – my muggle relatives, horrible people – and they don’t take well to magic. They agreed to play nicely for Luke’s birthday but then the owl swooped in and of course they thought I’d done it on purpose. Accused me of having it all planned out to rub it in their faces!”

Draco frowned deeply. “I’m so sorry, Harry, it never entered my mind.”

“Don’t be!” Harry’s laughter continued. “It was the highlight of my day! Just as my Uncle Vernon went red as a beetroot and started screaming, his tie went on fire! He’d stressed Luke out that much that he ended up on the receiving end of some accidental magic.” 

Draco sniggered at the image. “Sounds about right. I had a tantrum once as a toddler and blew up a set of very old, very expensive, glass vases.” 

“I removed the glass in a zoo once,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Set a boa constrictor on my cousin.” 

Lifting an eyebrow, Draco couldn’t help but wonder if the other man was slightly insane. “And you never suspected that you had a connection with the Dark Lord?”   
“I didn’t even know who he was! I didn’t even know I was a wizard, then!” 

“Yes, because normal people manage to set free giant snakes on a whim…” Draco scoffed in disbelief. 

By the time the pair had finished recalling their tales of accidental magic, the sun had started to set and all thoughts of having lunch together had gone. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so caught up in a conversation that he’d lost track of time completely. Perhaps it had never happened. Malfoys were punctual people. Though Draco knew Harry wasn’t like this at all and likely had many memories of hours passing him by with his friends. A now familiar pang of jealousy erupted inside Draco at the thought. Yet, Harry wasn’t passing his time with his other friends today, he was spending it with Draco and that thought was almost enough to subdue his irrational emotions.

#### Saturday March 1st 2008 

A sideways glance in the mirror alerted Harry to the fact that he hadn’t had a real haircut in quite some time. Gone were the days where his hair would grow back overnight – Ron had joked that it was a sign of old age, but Harry suspected it had more to do with being able to choose his own hair style. He still shuddered at the memories of his Aunt Petunia trying to make his hair ‘presentable’. There was no doubt in his mind that if his Aunt could see his hair now, she’d likely have a stroke. 

Groaning at the strands of black hair sticking up in all directions, Harry turned his attention to his outfit. It wasn’t really in his nature to spend any great amount of time in front of a mirror but since Ginny was no longer here, he felt obligated to perform his own critique. The jeans and short-sleeved shirt combination had always gone down favourably in the past. Now was not the time for trying to spice things up, especially given that he was already late! 

Within seconds he found himself staring at the bright, yellow, wooden doors of an upmarket pub. The ivy growing up the sides of the white-washed building gave the building a rustic charm that was normally only found in small villages. Clearly, this was Hermione’s choice of venue. Ron would have chosen somewhere far dingier with much cheaper alcohol. 

As soon as he opened the door, he spotted his friends in a booth towards the back of the restaurant area. The stone floor was littered with tiny, circular wooden tables but only half were occupied: Harry couldn’t help but notice that his friends had managed to acquire the booth that sat right next to the stone fireplace. Ron was already skimming through the menu as though he was going to order anything other than a large plate of meat and chips, while Hermione surveyed the wine menu. They both looked up with smiles as Harry approached them and shuffled his way into the booth. 

“You’re late.” Hermione said, not unkindly. 

“Give him a break, ‘Mione,” Ron sighed in exasperation. “It’s been ten minutes tops!”

“Happy Birthday, Ron!” Harry beamed, ignoring the couple’s minor spat. “Still getting used to dressing myself!” 

Ron blinked, as though he was seeing his friend for the first time, before scrunching up his nose in confusion. Fashion had never been his strong point and he was happy to admit that for most social occasions, his wife laid out an outfit for him in advance. “You look fine to me.” The red-head shrugged before going back to his assessment of the menu. 

Over the last seventeen years of their friendship, Harry had yet to see any real change in Ron’s character. The man may now have been twenty-eight, but he was still undeniably ginger with a splattering of freckles. Physically, Ron Weasley had put on a bit of weight since his childhood, but his personality mostly remained unchanged. Harry, who had started to notice his first few grey hairs, often found himself feeling jealous of Ron’s permanent youth. 

“Twenty-eight years old,” Harry sighed into a glass of water that Hermione had poured for him. “And he still needs to check the menu before he orders his steak.” 

Hermione snorted slightly behind the wine menu while Ron threw the menu at his best friend in mock offense. “It might be chicken tonight!” 

“Chicken?” Harry said in complete disbelief. “I don’t think you’ve ever ordered chicken unless it comes on top of your steak…” 

“I’ve got to start watching the weight,” Ron’s blush crept along his cheeks as he spoke. “I’m not getting any younger.”

Sighing, Hermione took hold of her husband’s hand. “Ron, it’s your birthday, I think today of all days, you can have whatever you want to eat. You’re not putting on that much!” 

“You won’t be saying that in ten years time, ‘Mione, when I’m fat and unattractive!” Ron scoffed, though he seemed calmer now with his wife’s praise. 

“At least you’re not going grey.” Harry grumbled as he scanned through the menu options. 

Gasping, Hermione slammed down the wine menu that had already been re-read more than six times. “Harry! You’re not, are you?!” 

“Of course I am, Hermione, we’re all nearly thirty, my wife has died and I’ve got three kids.” Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Blimey, Harry, you don’t need to say it like that!” Ron spluttered behind his water glass. 

“You’re worrying about getting fat and unattractive for your wife but I’m not even sure anyone will give me a second look at this rate!” 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione bit her lip, making her concern more obvious than she normally would have liked. “I didn’t even know you were thinking about… that.” 

Sighing, Harry put his menu down carefully on the table. “I’m not really. It’s only been four months, I can’t picture myself with another woman, it wouldn’t feel right. I was just meaning that by the time I might feel like… dating… I might be past it!” 

Thankfully, before his friends frowning faces could merge into words of concern, the waitress appeared from nowhere. Unsurprisingly, Ron ordered the largest steak on the menu with a side of chips, reminding Harry that while so much of his life had been changed forever, some things would never change!

#### Thursday March 6th 2008

The back court of Malfoy Manor was quiet, Gothic and beautiful: it was also the unofficial home of the Malfoy Peacocks. A woven, wooden archway sat between white, stone benches through which light filtered from the rising sun. In the centre, surrounded by a ring of these stone benches, was a crystal-clear pond that played host to a family of koi. To some the space may have seemed eerie but the Malfoy’s had always felt that the ivy-covered setting was remarkably peaceful. 

It was here, sat amongst a crowd of albino peacocks and staring at the fish within the pond, Draco found his Father. Years had passed since Lucius Malfoy had spent any time in Azkaban but the experience had left a profound effect. Healers had explained in some detail that the added trauma of Voldemort’s reign had been the final nail in the coffin of Lucius’s tranquillity. Since Voldemort had fallen, Lucius had slowly grown weaker and more puzzled. With each year that passed Draco found that the Father he had worshipped as a child was becoming more and more faded.

Still, he refused to abandon the man that had raised him. He didn’t agree with his views any longer and he would never again look up to him, but they were family. Malfoys cared for their family: Lucius was no exception. This garden was the senior Malfoy’s sanctuary and both Draco and Narcissa took great pains to ensure the space was well kept. Twice a week Draco would join his Father amongst the peacocks and attempt to keep him company. 

“The fish have done well over Winter, this year.” Draco smiled fondly to his Father as he leaned gently on the wooden archway. 

The man did not look up but Draco thought he saw the shadow of a smile. “Quite.”

“Scorpius will be pleased to see them.” 

At this, Lucius’s eyes lit up: his grandson was his pride and joy. “Will he come to see them?”

“Of course,” Draco forced a smile. “He loves to sit here with you and watch the fish.”

“Things are not as they should be between you and your wife.” 

This announcement slightly shook Draco: was this a moment of lucidity from his Father or had he forgotten, as he regularly did, that he and Astoria were now divorced? These moments sent a jolt to Draco’s heart. It was not often that he allowed himself to hope that his Father may recover. 

“ _Ex_ -wife, Father.” Draco gently corrected.

Waving off the words as though they lacked any significance, Lucius searched his son’s face. “Yes, divorced, but forever bonded.”

“Scorpius would have been better without her.” Draco sneered at the thought.

Lucius remained passive. “Would you have been better off without me?”

Silence passed between the two men. This was not a conversation that either of them had braved before. After the war they had skirted around the issue and as time went on, Draco believed he’d lost his chance. Lucius was too ill, Draco had told himself. Now he was caught between jumping on this rare moment of sanity, and taking some time to come up with the right words. 

“You and Astoria are different, Father.”

Nodding, Lucius seemed to be mulling over this idea. “In many ways, yes. In many ways, no. I wanted you as Astoria wanted Scorpius. Parenting is unexpected – it changes a person and makes them re-evaluate themselves. You find yourself making decisions and you think are in that child’s best interests. Often, you are wrong in those decisions.” 

“If this is about Volde-“

“No,” Lucius was suddenly fierce and Draco wondered if he had disturbed the man’s mental state. “It is about learning to be a parent. My mistakes were not only in relation to the Dark Lord, Draco. That will always be my _biggest_ mistake but there were others. Pushing you to get the best marks from the very beginning!”

“Father, I think that’s probably normal – to want your child to succeed.” Draco felt genuinely confused.

“And would you have felt the same desperation to succeed if I had behaved differently? Yet, your desperation was far more to do with a fear of failure than it ever was with success.” Lucius was grim. 

Recognition dawned on Draco’s face. “Dumbledore.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Exactly. So desperate to please. Fear of failure but no determination to succeed. I’d planted that need to do well early in your life and it blossomed into a fear of letting me down. You closed off your emotions; just as you saw your Father do.” 

“I’m sorry I was such a disappointment.” Draco couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. 

Much to his son’s surprise, Lucius laughed. “Disappointed? Not at all! We may disagree when it comes to politics but I am not disappointed. If you had really wished to succeed, you would have correctly identified Mr Potter at our home so many years ago. Instead, you decided for yourself – what was best for _you_. And that was my job as a parent: to make decisions for you but then to allow you to make your own decisions when you were ready to do so.”

“Thank you.” Draco flashed an innocent smile at his Father: the words had touched him deeply. 

For a long time, Draco had held some resentment towards his Father. As a young adult he had fuelled himself with anger: how could this man claim to love him and then put him in the hands of a murderous lunatic? How could he value his politics more than his child? Viciously, he had told himself that Lucius’s condition was karma at its best. Now he felt guilty – the man had been misguided but he was still his Father. It wasn’t that Draco was ever going to receive awards for Father of the Year. Every parent made mistakes. 

Within minutes, the fog descended again upon Lucius and Draco bitterly realised that the moment between them had passed. Yet, progress had been made. Some of the wounds upon Draco’s heart had been, not healed as such, but soothed. He spent the remainder of the morning making mindless small talk with his Father and the peacocks.


End file.
